USS Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal
by TheNightShadows
Summary: Take away the Enterprise, end a relationship, add Commander to the title of Lieutenant, and what's left over is a person Nyota Uhura doesn't recognize in the mirror.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello again! It's been six months since I updated this story, and surprise, surprise, I have not actually finished writing this third part. Life and all that, but I still want to say sorry about the long gap and lack of progress. I did try to make an effort to pre-write many parts, at least. :*) So, because I apparently need deadlines and pressure in order to be productive, I am going to start posting it. Unfortunately, that means, try though I might, an update schedule will probably start and then get interrupted. Also, just to give everyone a heads up, this will be approximately twenty chapters split into five parts, and from now on, author's notes will be at the end of the chapter.

 **This story is the third part in a series. In hindsight, I think this can be read as a standalone, given its departure from the two previous stories. For the fullest picture, you could skim the first two, but the story itself can be enjoyed independently.**

 **This story takes place directly after Star Trek: Beyond** and incorporates the movie with few changes.

* * *

 **U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **ACT I**

 _Between the acting of a dreadful thing_

 _And the first motion, all the interim is_

 _Like a phantasma or a hideous dream._

 _The genius and the mortal instruments_

 _Are then in council, and the state of man,_

 _Like to a little kingdom, suffers then_

 _The nature of an insurrection._

 _-_ Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

 **Part 1**

The Captain needed to clean her office.

Nyota thought it a matter of safety because upon entering the room, she stumbled into a pile of civilian clothes and Starfleet uniforms. As her boots tangled in the cloth, her hands grasped at the open air, trying to hold onto something that wasn't there. She swayed forward, pushed her weight backwards on the heels of her feet, and then in the blink of an eye, steadied her body against the door frame. Never before had Nyota looked so ungraceful in front of a superior.

Sitting cross-legged and barefoot on the tabletop of her desk, Yorktown's newly instated First Officer, Mazia Eilum, raised both eyebrows at her.

"I usually make a better first impression," Nyota claimed with a quickness that sounded too much like a lie. A hand went back and ran through her ponytail. She halted the motion halfway, her hand falling defeated and awkward at her side.

Nyota could feel the weight of Eilum's gaze. "I'm sure you do, Lieutenant Uhura." Her speech was concise, but she drew out vowels in an almost hushed tone. If the black spots lining from her hairline down the sides of her face and neck hadn't been enough, Nyota could have identified her as Trill on speech pattern alone. Though not the first one to join Starfleet, Eilum couldn't have been more than one in a handful of her species currently in the ranks. She was also, Nyota had read in her Starfleet bio, the first to make Captain.

She really should have made a better first impression.

With her center of balance found once more, Nyota remembered to stand at attention and tried not to let the forming bruise on her ankle distract her. "It's a little late for that kind of formality, don't you think?" Eilum asked with a hint of amusement. Nyota nodded, took a quick look around, and supposed that it was.

Not yet unpacked, the Captain's office was a jumble of boxes, cords, and no small amount of oddities. A curvy mirror lay broken on the ground, glass fragments glittering under the light. A painting of the Andromeda Galaxy, its disk of stars rendered distorted, leaned against a box. A window on the right wall overlooked Central Plaza. And on the left, another peered beyond the forcefield into space. A slew of pinned up children's drawings flipped on the wall behind Eilum's head. Somehow, the gray, dull lines of a typical Starfleet office had come alive with character.

She had been silent too long. "Yes, Captain."

"I'm much more used to Commander," Eilum admitted. "This whole Captain nonsense strikes me as overkill, don't you think? What am I a Captain of exactly?"

Nyota thought it had been a rhetorical question. When the pause stretched onwards into awkwardness, Nyota answered. "A starbase." She let her arms relax down to her sides and observed Eilum closely.

She found Eilum to be around her own height, though it was hard to tell from her seated position. Her wispy, light blonde hair was long and plaited down her back. Her eyes were dark brown, almost indistinguishable from her pupils. Her feet were covered only by a pair of black socks, boots mysteriously absent.

"Next they'll make me an Admiral. As if being Captain of a starbase doesn't already sound pathetic enough. Do you want a drink?" Eilum leaned backwards, contorting her body in a way that would impress a gymnast and reached for something behind her desk. She came back up with a bottle of romulan ale.

Unfortunately, Nyota wasn't one to break the law, at least not before noon and never with a stranger.

"No, thank you, Captain," Nyota declined. Eilum shrugged and then gestured for her to walk further into the office, so Nyota complied, albeit far more carefully than the way in which she had entered. As she stepped over a long piece of black tubing, she spoke up again. "Captain?"

"Hmm?" Eilum was putting back the alcohol and had rolled onto her stomach to do so. Nyota ended up addressing the Captain's rear end as opposed to her face.

"May I ask why you've requested this meeting?" After Kirk's birthday party a few days ago, Nyota had received orders to report to Captain Eilum's office at the specified stardate and time. No explanation, no details. Even Kirk hadn't known anything when she'd asked him.

Of course, then they'd all been distracted by the news, so no one had any time to make inquiries.

Eilum crawled off the tabletop and into a cozy looking, but worn-out office chair. "Please, sit." Nyota did so in a low backed, less comfortable seat on the opposite side of the desk. Pushing herself forward, Eilum threaded her fingers together and laid her arms out in front of her. Nyota noticed a golden ring on her left hand. Married, and to a Human? "I called you here because I want you."

A beat of silence passed between them before Nyota prompted her with an, "Excuse me?"

"Here. On Yorktown," Eilum clarified, tucking back a strand of hair that had escaped from behind her ear. "I want to offer you a position on the starbase, as a liaison officer. I already laid the groundwork with Commodore Paris, so all you have to do is say yes." She beamed as though Nyota had already accepted the position.

Nyota had a thousand and one questions almost instantly, specifically: where was all this coming from? Before she could ask, she remembered that she wasn't looking for a new position. She was right where she belonged, probably.

Hands folded in her lap, Nyota nodded with resolve. "With all due respect, Captain, I'm content to remain in my current assignment."

"You haven't even heard the specifics." Eilum swiveled a little in her chair and almost pouted.

Nyota shook her head. "I don't need to." She moved to stand.

Eilum's posturing changed. Where once had been an eccentric officer, now sat a disciplined, stern Captain. "Sit down, Lieutenant." Once again, Nyota sat, somewhat startled. "You know, the _Enterprise_ is not all there is to Starfleet. You do want to advance in your career?" What a condescending way, she thought, to phrase a job offer. Nyota's nerves sparked with irritation. Staring at the translucent material of the desk, she wondered how quickly she could get out of there. She turned her eyes back up to stare into Eilum's and made sure to keep her mouth in a neutral, straight line.

"Of course."

"Then listen to my proposal and don't dismiss it offhand out of a misplaced sense of loyalty. Kirk has his pick of officers, you understand. The _Enterprise_ would not suffer greatly were you to leave. I mean on an operational level," Eilum expanded, " and I should probably mention that this position comes with a promotion to Lieutenant Commander. Would you like more details now, or were you looking to spend an eternity as a Lieutenant on the Bridge of Kirk's ship?" Before Nyota could get a word in, she overheard Eilum mutter, "Not that he currently has one."

Nyota bit her tongue and held back the urge to utter a ' _neither do you._ ' "Please," she invited, foregoing the address of Captain and hoping with all her might that Eilum noticed.

With a pleased expression gracing her features, Eilum settled back in her chair. "Good choice." After staring at Nyota just a bit too long for comfort, Eilum abruptly got on the ground on her hands on knees. She tugged a box towards her, slid open its lid, and sat back on her heels. "Hold on one moment." Nyota stared down at the sight and thought that Eilum might be one of the strangest captains she had ever met, and she had served under Jim Kirk for almost five years. After Eilum had pulled out scores of apparently irrelevant objects, she made an 'Ah-ha!' noise from her lips. Something flew her way. Nyota caught it clumsily, not expecting it to be hurled at her.

The missing piece of the Abronath lay in her palm.

When the shock settled a few seconds later and she realized it was only a recreation, Nyota turned a quizzical frown at Eilum. With a quiet _oomph_ , Eilum flopped back into her chair and smoothed out her uniform, ignoring the disapproval Nyota shot her way.

"That," Eilum stated, "is a problem."

The slim disk held in her hand had the same grooves, same texture. It had the same triangular shape in the center, three lines shooting out from it in three separate directions, and the same small pointed finish. It felt real. She placed it onto the desk, far, far away from her. "Please explain how this relates to the position of liaison officer."

Eilum swiped the disk into one of her own hands and held it up, elbow resting on the desk. "A biological weapon that drains the life from its targets is now in the possession of the Federation. How comfortable do you think our lovely friends outside this wonderful conglomeration of planets are currently feeling about that? I'll give you a hint, Nyota." She paused. "May I call you Nyota?"

Before Nyota could say a _bsolutely not_ , Eilum continued. "They don't like it. Starfleet still wants to study it, learn how it works, how it was created. The Federation is on the fence about allowing this, and everyone else in the quadrant is currently issuing statements that amount to 'Hell no'. Commodore Paris wants someone to deal with all of that messy communication stuff for her."

Nyota raised her eyebrows. "Why?"

"Neither of us like talking to idiots, and believe it or not, the universe is full of them. Other governments are full of them, our civilian government is full of them, and Starfleet Command is full of them. You're smart, but you were also trained with the capacity to communicate with annoying people. So, Nyota," Nyota winced at the use of her first name, "that's why we want you. You get to do what you love, which apparently is talking, and I get to do what I love, which is reading very succinct, very short reports about what everyone else said." Nyota thought Eilum might be finished, but apparently not. "I have better things to do than coordinate every action and decision the Commodore makes with Starfleet, or talk with Federation council members, or mingle with Romulan ambassadors. People can be so needy," Eilum sighed.

"And you think this is supposed to be a tempting offer?"

Eilum smiled and leaned forward, the disk resting on her cheek. It disturbed Nyota to see something so horrible in the hands of someone, as far as she could tell, so unpredictable. "I think you find it fascinating." That was, unfortunately, true.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but I simply can't accept."

"Why not?" Eilum seemed genuinely confused. "You've logged your time on the infamous _Enterprise_. Try something new, live somewhere new, meet new people. I'm offering you something any career officer would kill for. A real opportunity to make a difference."

Frowning, Nyota said, "I already have that."

"You had that," Eilum corrected with the past tense.

"The new ship will be ready in only a few weeks." Give or take a month, Nyota internally corrected. "It's still the flagship. I live somewhere new everyday."

Something flickered in the depths of Eilum's eyes, and for all her training, Nyota couldn't place it. "But you don't stay, Nyota. You can have that here."

"I don't need that," Nyota insisted.

Eilum's eyes bore into her own. "You're too young to know what you need. You only know what you want, and what you want is to stay with your merry band of friends on Kirk's ship for all of eternity." The two officers stared each other down at that declaration. "Your generation of officers has this mindset of doing before thinking, that being a Starfleet officer means always being on the front lines because that's where the action is. Because that's where you make the difference. And the events of the five years since Vulcan's destruction have only reinforced that."

The neutrality Nyota had been so careful to maintain began to slip, and the anger and grief from their last mission seeped through into her voice.

"You presume too much, Captain."

The way Eilum's lips tightened took Nyota aback, though really, it should not have. "I presume enough. You've latched onto the _Enterprise_ like its a life preserver, as your peers have latched onto their own assignments, but Nyota, you aren't soldiers. There isn't a war, and Starfleet's primary function is not to serve as a military. Your duty is not solely to obey a commander or patrol a border, but to explore the areas in which you excel in order to further universal understanding and cooperation." She was pretty sure Eilum had just quoted a cadet manual, but the exact edition evaded her.

Nyota had a feeling that Eilum had given this speech before. "I know that."

"Then why," Eilum asked with a pointed glance around the space, "would you not take this job?"

"I believe that my current assignment is the right one for me."

Eilum rested her cheek in her hand, and Nyota saw pity in her eyes. "Maybe you are lying to yourself."

A bit more venom than she intended sunk into Nyota's words. "Maybe you should review the work my ship has done these past few years, and afterwards, consider asking someone else to be liaison officer."

Eilum began to laugh the sound of a ringing bell. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Her face flushed. Nyota didn't know if she should be offended or amused, but she was leaning towards the former. What could possibly be so funny about what she had just said? "Stay at Yorktown," Eilum requested, still giggling a little.

Eyebrows raised and nearly forgetting everything about command structure, Nyota bit out, "Do you understand what the word 'no' means?"

Eilum grinned. "No." The tension in the room evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. Nyota relaxed her shoulders and successfully fought the urge to smile in exasperation.

To be fair, she really had set herself up for that one.

* * *

Voices, Nyota decided as she listened to Spock's the next day, were like footsteps.

He sounded upset. Instead of a small wobble or an elevation in volume, Spock tended to vocally express his displeasure by using increasingly precise pronunciations, all short _t's_ and _s's_ and clipped phrases. Occasionally, all this might be accompanied by an ever so slight upward pitch. Today, there had been both.

 _Nyota, I would like to resume our relationship as it was approximately two weeks prior to this date. Is this acceptable?_

He used the words _'approximately two weeks_ ' as opposed to listing it down to the millisecond. It was a sweet gesture. Still, twenty words at the tail end of an awkward discussion that had consisted of vague pleasantries and a sharing of news wasn't exactly a pronouncement of his undying love for her.

They sat together in a small park on the most northwestern section of the starbase, and the only other visitors were a Tellerite woman and her young son, playing on the grass. His giggles echoed over to their pale, metal bench, and if Nyota had not been under such pressure, she might have smiled at the noise.

Laughter had always been one of her favorites.

Spock never laughed. Well, not really, though sometimes if he found something particularly amusing, he would fight a smile and make a quick, quiet snorting noise through his nose. It was probably sad how much she lived for moments like that.

It was probably sad how unsure her answer would be.

Her gaze moved from the grass and spindly trees to Spock. He had taken to wearing his Bridge uniform once more as he and Kirk had begun to micromanage the final construction of the ship that would now be called _Enterprise-A_. His blue shirt and black pants were pressed to perfection, his boots shined, his hair combed, and his eyes were like staring into the dark of space, black and empty, but every now and again, a flash of light, the most beautiful, mysterious kind of light, would swim in the depths.

She had never stood a chance six years ago, and if she ever told anyone that falling in love with Spock had been the easiest thing in the universe, Nyota didn't think they would believe her. Falling in love with him hadn't been the hard part, not at all, but staying together had never been simple. Only six months in, his world fell apart, and she had been the one to pick up the pieces. Then another year later, Admiral Pike had died, and Jim Kirk had died, and once again, Nyota bore the brunt of it.

Almost three years into their mission, and all the ups and downs that had accompanied it, Nyota wondered just how six years could change love into something different. Nyota was still in love with Spock, but he hurt her, and not in any way that could easily be fixed. She didn't know what it was exactly, the feelings Spock stirred up in her now, but they weren't the same as before, and it bothered her.

It was unclear if that love would be enough to carry them through. It certainly hadn't been for him ' _two weeks prior_ '. The thought made her want to curl into a ball and cry for the rest of the week, but Nyota didn't indulge in such acts. They were for people that let their love blind them from the truth.

Nyota wasn't like that. She just wasn't.

Her necklace made its presence known, sliding against the skin beneath her top, as she finally spoke. "Can I have some time to think it over?" She shifted so that her torso faced him more fully, and she laid her elbow on the back of the bench.

The starlight that had been gleaming in his irises dulled.

Spock breathed out all the air in his lungs and inclined his head. "For how long?"

"I'm not sure," Nyota said. She could tell the imprecise nature of her answer irritated him.

"Very well." They stared at each other.

What she wouldn't give to just say ' _Yes, Spock, I would like to turn back the clock two weeks_ ', but they were beings that lived in three dimensions, not four, and traveling back to the people they had been two weeks ago was impossible, the people who had existed before Spock had made that stupid declaration over dinner in their quarters. Because somehow that had been the optimal time to tell her what he intended to do. That he was leaving her.

He had hurt her when he had chosen his duty to his people over their duty to each other, no matter how logical the decision had been.

Nyota believed she was more understanding than most human partners might be, and she had never asked more of Spock than what he could give her, but she deserved better than to be left behind while her boyfriend went off to have children with some other person who wouldn't love him the way she did.

He still hadn't really apologized for it.

Nyota realized she had no expectation for him to do so, and that, more than anything else, caused her to nod at Spock with resolve.

"Good." Nyota smiled softly and uttered a question that invited a departure. "I think you and Jim were meeting soon?"

Spock didn't blink. "Correct. However, it is not for another forty six minutes," he left out the seconds, she noted with warmth, "and I find your company preferable to solitude." The resolve started to melt, but only minutely.

"Okay." She settled back against the bench, the sleeves of their shirts barely touching. A sidelong glance through her eyelashes revealed that Spock was pleased. His posture had relaxed, and he hadn't even bothered to fix the way a slight breeze had mused his hair in the back. If the situation were different, Nyota would have smoothed it down for him.

It ached to not do so, but Nyota hadn't decided on anything yet. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder and watched holographic clouds race across the domed sky.


	2. Chapter 2

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **Act I**

 **Part 2**

She closed her eyes and let out a quiet breath in the artificial morning chill. Yorktown, she had come to conclude, was a wonderful place to be. Its newness attracted all varieties of Federation species, and in what had become almost a game, she made a point to count out all the different languages and dialects spoken in one place. It was a shame that the battle had left behind a scar of empty shops and residential blocks. Many were now hesitant to move to Yorktown. Still, from her bench in Central Plaza, voices of all backgrounds rang in her ears. At the edge of her hearing, Nyota caught the end of a conversation in Standard.

"Oh, Lily, you're being so ridiculous..." the voice said with loving and exasperated affection.

Nyota's heart ached for home.

Another sound piqued her interest. Someone was passing her by. Tellarian, Southeastern Hemisphere, Qutharian District.

"... of all the things you could have chosen, you just had to go and …" the voice argued, scratched like subspace static.

Once they had journeyed beyond her range, Nyota opened her eyes. Everything was bright, happy, calm, so different from two weeks ago. People walked without hurry, and though the day was young, a few children were awake and playing around a large circular fountain to the north. Her eyes swiveled upwards. Construction crews and scaled shattered buildings and machines and drones hovered nearby. Head tilting back further, Nyota spotted people walking where gravity worked differently, too far to make out anything other than bobbing heads and the tops of trees. A train whooshed somewhere off to the right and someone across the square had started to play a Vulcan harp.

Spock?

Without looking, Nyota knew it couldn't be. The strings were being plucked too gently, and the tune sounded too traditional. Spock preferred more modern Vulcan composers. In the next moment, as she moved her head back, Nyota's eyes confirmed what her ears had already told her. Not Spock. She was glad.

Being around him these days was difficult, no easier before their conversation in the park than after. Spock was not a hard person to love, but he could be a hard person to be in love with. Nyota wondered if the fault was hers to bear alone, or if Spock could share in the blame.

Was she too Human?

Her thumb and index finger absently lifted up to her sternum and held the stone of his mother's necklace as though trying to hang on to something that never existed. Their future together had never seemed so uncertain. If their relationship had a language, Nyota could not be sure of her ability to understand it. The voice of it now would be like the sounds of butterfly wings, faint and fluttering.

"Uhura!" Earth, Northwestern Hemisphere, subtle Midwestern drawl.

Her hands dropped immediately from the amulet to her lap. That voice, as clear and strong as a windchime, was familiar. Nyota turned her body in the direction of the natural disaster known as Jim Kirk. As he approached in civilian clothes, she noted with relief the greatly faded bruises on his face. "Morning," the Captain greeted, handing her a thermos he had previously borrowed and taking a seat beside her.

Green tea sung its praises under her nose. She took a sip and smiled softly. It was hot, but not enough to burn her tongue.

"Thank you," she said.

"Cheers." He clanked his cup with hers. Black coffee, she guessed without needing to look or smell. Since becoming Captain, Kirk had never started the morning without it. For the rest of the day, he wouldn't touch the stuff. Spock had once commented on this Kirkian phenomenon within the privacy of their quarters. Why would someone so unpredictable, in this one instance, become a creature of habit? Perhaps Kirk could be a rational being after all, he had insisted with a tone of surprise, as though Jim Kirk had never once had a logical thought in all his life.

"How's McCoy?" she asked, watching him sip the coffee.

Kirk sighed softly, gaze unfocused. Sad, but more than that, concerned. "Same as yesterday and every day since we got the news. He's trying to pretend everything's fine, but he's not very good at it. At least he's out of his room, but now he won't leave the base's hospital, working round the clock." He shook his head in disapproval.

"And Scotty?" He only twisted his mouth down and shrugged. There was no point in asking about Keenser. Scotty implied the inclusion of the alien engineer, and vice versa.

They both allowed the silence of the moment to wash over them. Groups of people strolled by, laughing and conversing with one another. A young girl started to do cartwheels on the sidewalk, hands and feet slapping the concrete. Nyota sipped her drink again, the heat of it distracting her.

"So," Kirk finally began with an inflection that invited her to speak.

"Did you approve my request?" Nyota asked calmly.

He gave her an exasperated expression that Nyota knew he had picked up from McCoy. "I will, as soon as you tell my why I should."

She slowly drank her tea and switched her gaze to the Vulcan man playing his instrument. "The new ship won't be ready to start test runs for at least another two weeks." She usually felt great pleasure at the sound of music, but the longer the Vulcan played, the more her muscles tightened with tension. "Sparing me one is hardly an imposition."

Kirk hummed in a way she recognized as his first go-to expression of confusion. "Uhura, is this about Spock?" Yes, but also no. She missed her family. She missed Earth. She missed feeling normal. And Eilum's offer to _think it over for a little while, Nyota_ continued to ring in her ears, even a week after their initial meeting. Her recoiling from the position had started to melt into a serious consideration. A liaison officer at Yorkown.

Probably not, though. It wasn't as though Eilum had endeared herself to Nyota, and the thought of working under the captain made her cringe. Still …

Her eyes cut back to Kirk. She hadn't told him about Eilum's offer, and she didn't think Eilum would have mentioned it to him either. It was really for the best. Kirk could be so Kirk-like about certain things.

"Not everything in my life revolves around Spock."

"I just thought," he started, wavering in pitch.

"You can think whatever you like," Nyota interrupted. She regretted how harsh her words came out, but Nyota understood better than anyone that words once spoken could not be taken back. Her voice softened as she continued. "I need some time away. There's a shuttle leaving for Earth this afternoon." She paused briefly. "I've made arrangements to be on it. As long as you're okay with that."

Kirk waited about five seconds before nodding once. "I understand." His eyes then glanced meaningfully into her own. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to imply … " He didn't mean to imply that her only importance rested in Spock's presence at her side. It didn't necessarily mean he didn't think it. That wasn't a fair assumption, she knew. Fairness, though, had little to do with anything these days. "It's alright." She placed a hand on his arm for a moment before pulling it back. Maybe it was time to change the subject. "How are you, Jim? Are you doing alright?"

He seemed surprised by her question. His fingers started to tap on his thermos. His eyebrows raised. Yes, surprised, and he would likely tell her about half-truth. Somewhere around sixty percent honesty was the best she had ever gotten from him. "Honestly," he began, and now Nyota could say with certainty she would only get forty five percent of the whole story, "I'm a little impatient." Kirk gave her a crooked smile that she used to hate but now found a little bit charming. "I want them to finish the ship, and I want to get back out there."

Nyota was definitely never going to tell him about what Eilum had said.

"I understand." Sort of, she did, but maybe not as much as she conveyed. For Kirk, it must be a revival of a kind. For Nyota, it was a reminder of all that she had lost. Just a couple months ago, M'Benga had died. M'Benga. The thought still chilled her to the bone, that someone so integral to the ship, to Spock in particular, could really be dead. She hadn't ever considered the possibility. How naïve.

And now it felt like they would never catch a break.

"Right? I mean, yes, it's technically the same mission," Kirk exclaimed, "but it's a whole new ship. New crew members, new places to explore. We're going places. I can feel it. Now if only they could actually finish with the damn thing, we'd be able to have some fun."

She smiled indulgently. "Don't forget to take a break once in a while, Jim."

"Yes, ma'am," Kirk mock saluted with his free hand. He wouldn't take her advice. Unlike McCoy, Nyota refused to keep fighting over that point of his personality. Spock and Kirk were similar in that way, and that, she believed, was true for similarly insecure motivations. Kirk wouldn't rest because deep down he felt like he needed to prove himself capable, even to those that believed he was. Even to himself. Spock wouldn't rest because he was afraid of being thought weak for his Humanity. If he didn't push himself harder, pretend to be more logical than the most logical Vulcan, then he might be further evidencing the idea of Human as contamination.

Of course, there was a limit to how much Human one could mix into the Vulcan genepool before it became diluted. He would only father Vulcan children, after all.

So, she still felt bitter about it. Survival of one's race or no, that hurt her to her core.

Casually, she checked the time. "Well," Nyota said, starting to stand up. "I should get going to pack." She had finished last night. "I'll see you in a week, then?"

He nodded. "I'll hold you to that. Oh, and Uhura," Kirk said as she moved to leave. Nyota stopped and faced him. "If you have time, would you check in on Carol and David and give them this for me?" He stood, leaving his coffee on the bench, and pulled a paper envelope from his inside his jacket. She took it from his outstretched hand and cradled it carefully. Real paper cost credits most didn't care to spare. There was something small bulging from one of the corners, as well as a letter encased inside. "I was going to send it through a shuttle carrier after we met, but since you're heading to Earth anyway?"

"Of course, Jim," Nyota answered readily. "How old is David now?"

Proud parent voice responded. "Nearly ten months, can you believe it? Carol says he's talking so much more now, granted you can't understand a word of it, but still. Talking. Actual noises that were made on purpose." Nyota grinned. Though she had seen David in person only as a very new baby, Nyota and the rest of the crew had been subject to far too many holos of David over the last year.

"That's pretty incredible."

Kirk gave her a goofy smile. "It is. Well," he sighed, this time in resignation, "I should get going, and you should start packing. Just know I'll be crying myself to sleep every night you're away." His voice sang out in that last sentence, and if her hands weren't full, Nyota would have playfully shoved him. As it was, she merely shook her head.

"I'm sure you will."

With that as a final farewell, Nyota turned on her heel, ponytail swishing behind her.

On her way back to the station's quarters, she passed by the Vulcan man. He looked nothing like Spock, played nothing like Spock, and she was unsure why that upset her so deeply.

Besides that, what was a Vulcan doing on Yorktown? Most rarely left New Vulcan these days. He noticed her staring and met her gaze, so she carefully kept her own straightforward until he was no longer in sight.

Upon reaching her rooms, Nyota placed Jim's letter down on her end table and undressed down to her underwear. Gingerly, she took a seat on her still unfamiliar bed and sighed through her nose. She should tell Jim of her offer to remain on the station upon her return from Earth, but Nyota had been fearful of his denial. Jim Kirk had the irritating habit of inserting himself into other people's private business, and when it came to people he considered friends, that habit turned into an obsession.

Nyota kicked her legs up into the air and inspected the nail polish on her toes. They were colored lavender, but she thought she might change them to green in a few days. It was a silly thing to do, painting her toes, because they were constantly covered by regulation Starfleet boots. No one saw them, so they communicated nothing.

Gaila had always liked to paint their nails together. The thought of her old friend filled Nyota with a great sense of melancholy, tugging on her heart and causing her to stand up in an attempt to find a distraction. Despite herself, Nyota began to hum the Vulcan man's song on her lips as she rifled through her closet for something comfortable enough for the shuttle. It would be a two day trip each way, leaving only three full days on Earth with her family. Not enough time, but Nyota was a Starfleet officer. There would never be enough time, and she had accepted that a long time ago.

Slipping on an old sweater and a pair of worn jeans she had left on the starbase before leaving to go into the nebula. Nyota tried to think of all the things she had to look forward to. She would see her mother and father, her little sister, and if she could manage it, she would take a day trip to Luna and see her older brother and his wife. She would see Nairobi with all its bright lights, shiny buildings, and clear pools. She would get to be _home_.

Why wasn't it enough?

Nyota sighed at her appearance in the mirror. The way her eyelids drooped down in exhaustion, a reminder of how little sleep she had been able to catch since the _Enterprise_ had been destroyed. Catching sleep, she laughed a bit to herself at her internal phrasing, as though it were something she needed to hunt down and wrestle. Though how could she expect anything different when the memory of Ensign Syl being devoured in that swirling black mass lingered behind her eyelids? She shook the thought away.

As Nyota sat back down on the bed, she realized that she wanted to talk to Spock about it. She wanted to share her feelings with him, to mind meld with him and have him share himself back. She wanted to share a bed with him, to fall asleep with him, to know that when she woke up he would be there beside her.

He had told her that he no longer wished to return to New Vulcan and marry someone else and have little stupid Vulcan babies with someone else and live a life with someone else and have a home with someone else and …

It changed little in her eyes. The cracks in their relationship remained ever present. She was still Human. He was still – he was still Spock. She couldn't give him what he needed. And now, she wondered if he could've ever given her what she needed. Up until that point, she'd always believed that they could make it work, that their differences were as much a strength as their similarities.

Had she been lying to herself?

Nyota double-checked her suitcase. She had very little. Most of her things were now a collection of metal scraps on the unforgiving floor of Altamid. All the mementos and gifts and clothes and holos and letters and love that had been on the _Enterprise_ were reduced to flaming ashes. She again clutched her necklace. That was safe. That was with her still. She sat back down on her bed and observed her barren quarters. It was a small space, lined with a cool silver and an adjacent bathroom with only a sonic shower, toilet, and sink. Her room had a small closet and a metal dresser built into the wall. The sheets on her bed were the same purple as her toes. Her fingers absently traced an intricate pattern on the bedding. If things went Eilum's way, these quarters could become permanent.

She spent the rest of her morning confirming travel plans and reading her brother's new book about a strange colony in the Romulan Neutral Zone that everyone had mysteriously forgotten about. Nyota liked the way Kamau told stories, she always had, and she couldn't wait to tease him about his latest accomplishment.

* * *

When Nyota went to board her ride later that afternoon, Spock unexpectedly met her in the shuttle bay. He stood the way he always did when he got nervous, switching his arms to straight at his side to clasped behind his back and then to his sides once more as though he couldn't decide where to put them. He spotted her immediately and waited patiently beside a family entering the shuttle together. Walking to him, a small sack slung over her shoulder and the suitcase pulled alongside her, Nyota thought of what to say.

"Hello," he said when she stopped in front of him.

"Hello." She moved around him to deposit her case into the cargo compartment of the shuttle. Nyota turned back around to face him, and she smiled as genuinely as she could manage.

"The captain told me you were taking a leave of absence." Spock tilted his head down when he spoke to her. Of course Kirk told him. "I wished to see you before you left." His voice informed her that he had expected Nyota to tell him before she went off to Earth.

"Well here I am," Nyota said.

Spock inhaled and started to say something but stopped suddenly. The arms went back down to his sides. Cautious. Undecided. "I assume you do not yet have an answer for the question I posed two point five days ago?" _Nyota, I would like to resume our relationship as it was two weeks prior to this date. Is this acceptable?_

"Not yet," she said gently. The gulf between their bodies should have told him that. Almost six full years together, and Spock still let her surprise him.

"Very well." Spock nodded, disappointment not as well hidden as he would like to believe. "Then I wish you a safe journey to Earth."

"Thank you, Spock." Almost out of habit, she reached forward to brush his cheek with her fingers. Her hand halted halfway up, and she sidestepped around him awkwardly. "Have a nice week," she said lamely as a goodbye. With each step up toward the shuttle doors, Nyota cursed herself for her mistake. At the top step, she twisted her body back around and saw him looking a little abandoned at the bottom. She should call of the whole trip, go back down, and just forgive him already.

She did not do a single one of those things.

Hardening her resolve, Nyota walked into the shuttle and tried to find her seat. This particular vehicle was unlike the cramped transport vessels Starfleet preferred. A privately owned, but well-reputed company ran this operation, and Nyota could not even regret the hefty amount of credits she'd spent in order to secure a spot. She would, after all, have to spend nearly a full two days in it. The seats were cushioned, roomy, and spaced far enough apart that she could talk to her neighbor, a middle-aged Rigellian, she noticed upon the discovery of her seat number, or mind her own business. Going by his blank, unwelcoming expression, she supposed they would both prefer the latter.

He had the seat beside the window, which was just as well. Nothing Nyota hadn't seen before.

A lightly-colored, thin carpeting covered the expanse of the shuttle, similar to certain areas of the _Enterprise_ meant for recreation. She wondered what the new ship would look like inside. Starship designers loved to switch things up in new models, but Nyota simply couldn't picture the _Enterprise_ looking any different from the way it had been. Chalking it up to a lack of creativity, or perhaps a common grief that accompanied change, she settled herself back into her chair and stretched both legs out in front of her. Ankles crossed, hands in her lap, she knew there were about a thousand things she could be doing. A thousand things she should be doing. Nyota had never been very good at taking vacations.

Instead, her eyes flickered shut and her ears perked to take the pulse of the shuttle.

The man beside her breathed heavily through his nose, but that did nothing to detract from the cacophony of other sounds. No, cacophony wasn't quite right. There was order in this disorder. An almost predictable compilation of what anyone might hear while traveling. Two passers-by, consulting each other on the steadily rising numbers on the seat aisles. A baby wailing a few rows ahead. Someone on the over-com, calling Frank to the cockpit. A computerized voice blared over all others from the screen directly in front of her, chanting instructions in her ear on how to access the shuttle's interface. Nyota quickly switched it off, and the sea of noise once again washed over her. Mostly Standard, she noted, but every now and again, a clipped phrase would ring out in another language.

Finally, the pilot announced herself over the comm system. Her name was Mary Hart, and Nyota wrung her hands together in her lap. Her skin stretched underneath a silver ring on her right pinky, a gift from her little sister two years prior. Mary Hart informed them of their ETA and wished them all a pleasant trip, and Nyota took the ring from her finger and held it up to the light. She should've polished it before leaving for the shuttle.

Her neighbor began to snore loudly. With an almost pained sigh, Nyota plucked a pair of earphones from the front pocket of her carry-on bag and inserted them, turning a dial on the side of them to noise-cancelling. High quality, of course, so the only thing she could hear now was the sound of her own breathing. The thumping of her heart echoed in her head.

She could feel the vibrations under her feet as the shuttle lifted into the air. It paused, waiting for permission to leave, and then once received, steadily zoomed out of Yorktown. Nyota spared a glance past the sleeping Rigellian and watched as the starbase reduced in size. She remembered the wonder she had felt as their old ship had approached the structure only a couple of weeks ago. It had seized her chest to see the sight of such an accomplishment. Now, though it still shone like a jewel alone in an empty chest, Yorktown had lost its novelty. Unlike her ring, it would take more than a new coat of polish to change that.

Safely on board and headed for her home planet, Nyota once again closed her eyes and took steady, deep breaths, willing herself to sleep. Sleep would be caught, whether it wanted to be or not. Ensign Syl, eyes wide with fear, was still screaming Nyota's name when an attendant shook her awake. One of her earphones had dropped into her lap.

"Miss," the attendant called. "Miss, are you alright?"

Nyota blinked her eyes open, petrified cries fading from her ears, and she felt a cold sweat on her back, neck, and forehead. With confusion, she gazed at the woman who woke her. She was young, or at least looked it, and her blue hair had blonde roots. Her eyes were concerned, so Nyota must have been causing quite a disturbance in her sleep. "I'm sorry," she murmured the lie, "I don't do well on shuttles."

Lips stretched into a professional, polished smile. Concern faded into distance and a vague kind of irritation. "It's quite alright. Is there anything I can get for you to make your trip more pleasant?"

"Not right now. Thank you, though." Polite but firm, Nyota's answer led to a nod, another smile, and then the attendant walked away. Breathing shallow bursts through her nose, she pointedly refused to look at any of the other passengers. She could feel the Rigellian neighbor's eyes on her profile, but Nyota ignored him in favor of checking the time. Just over five hours were gone from her forty hour journey. Only thirty-five hours left. Sixty minutes in an hour, so that meant twenty one hundred minutes remaining. Instead of calculating seconds, which only Spock or Makena might do, Nyota considered the fraction of the trip left: seven eighths. Percentage: less than ninety.

Properly distracted from her nightmare, Nyota bent down under her seat to retrieve her tablet. She flipped back to the part of her brother's novel she had left on. The team of explorers had just reached the surface of the mystery planet …

Krall's face, unrelenting and unforgiving, pressed up into her own. Her finger trembled under the line of words she'd been reading. Nyota needed to get a grip. Never before had it taken her this long to bounce back from a mission, and Nyota was no Cadet. She had seen some things in her time.

It was over now. All of it, only a memory. A dream. Something to be forgotten in the light of day.

Music, then. If she could not finish the book, then she would listen to music. Nyota replaced the lost earphone and set the tablet to send a collection of twenty-second century choral compositions into her ears. A melody of many voices hummed to life. Soothing. Calm. Practiced for many more hours than she would spend in this shuttle. Maybe there would be a choir at Yorktown she could join upon returning to the starbase.

Not, of course, that she planned on staying.

* * *

 **A/N** : Thanks to everyone for reading, reviewing, and all. Hopefully updates will continue at a semi-normal speed! Happy reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **Act I**

 **Part 3**

The rest of her trip was free from consequence, as Nyota had just decided not to sleep for the rest of the journey. If she had taken a more expensive shuttle, she might have been able to secure an actual bed to sleep on, perhaps in a private room where she wouldn't disturb anyone. As it was, her neck and legs were stiff from long hours of sitting, despite the frequent walking trips she took to get her blood pumping, and her eyes kept blinking shut.

Settling down on the landing pad, the shuttle emptied of passengers, while Nyota lingered behind. The Rigellian man nodded to her politely as he passed, a small briefcase in hand and a fresh suit on his body. Business? Nyota could only guess. She scooped up her carry-on bag, double-checked her seat to make sure she hadn't left anything behind, and made room for a mother with mischievous twins pulling at her leg.

She exited the shuttle next to last, and while she carefully stepped down onto the ground, Nyota scanned the crowd for family. Makena stood a little apart from a large grouping of friends recently reuinted. The communications officer rushed forward, forgetting to grab the rest of her things from the cargo hold. Once her little sister noticed her, she ran towards her. Nyota let her bag slip onto the white tiled floor as she embraced Makena. Welcome arms wrapped around her in return.

"Ny," Makena giggled in her ear after a time, "I'm getting bruises."

Nyota pulled back and carefully observed Makena. Her skin was a slight bit lighter than hers -had she been spending too much time indoors- she had pierced her ears -for the fifth time- and she had cut her hair. Makena noticed her attention and nervously tugged the short, chestnut colored strands that barely reached her ears.

"What do you think? Pops hates it." Makena made a face at that, but Nyota could hear the lack of confidence in her tone. That was strange. Their family wasn't prone to self-doubt, at least not outwardly.

Nyota brushed her little sister's hair down a little at the back. It made Makena look younger than her twenty-three. "I love it. Very you," she assured, trying not to sound too overbearing. "Besides, when has Dad ever been right about anything?" That led to a grin that reached Makena's eyes, the same color and shape as her own. "Wait here with this." Nyota lifted her bag and placed it in her sister's waiting arms. She turned around and waited in a short line to grab her suitcase. Once retrieved, Nyota darted through the crowd back to Makena, and then together, they made their way out of the airy, busy shuttle station.

"Mama and Pops would've come," Makena explained as she slung Nyota's bag over her shoulder, "but they're both busy trying to clean. I told them I would just meet you. I hope that's okay?"

"I'm never speaking to any of you ever again," Nyota announced in an overly-dramatic voice. Makena knew her well enough to not even react. "Kamau and Nina are coming to visit tomorrow."

"I thought I was going to see them?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. That's just what Mama said. Very Kamau to make plans last minute." The last part came out as light teasing, as though Kamau were currently walking with them.

"Look who's talking," Nyota commented with a sidelong glance.

Makena stuck out her tongue, stepping almost in front of Nyota and making her steps falter. "Not everyone can be a xeno-whatsit officer and travel around the galaxy on a starship, all on schedule." She knew exactly what it was called. Like Kirk, her sister had the penchant to act more unintelligent than she truly was. "I don't know how you stand the uniform. I think I might die if I had to wear the same color everyday."

With a short laugh, Nyota decided to change the subject. "How have you been? How's school?"

They finally made it outdoors. The shuttle had landed in Buenos Aires, and Nyota just had to trust that Makena had made arrangements to get them both to the next continent over. If not, well, Nyota always had a back-up plan.

City sounds almost drowned out Makena's response. "I'm actually not – well, I took the semester off." Mid-sentence change. That didn't bode well.

"Are you working then?" Nyota tuned out everything else, all the other noises and conversations and honking and people.

Makena's face scrunched up a bit as she directed Nyota down the block. Unwillingness. Caution. "Not really?"

"Is that a question?"

"Ugh," Maken made a disgruntled sound and an expression to match, "do we have to do this now? You're worse than Mama, Ny."

Nyota would not be deterred. "Are you living back home?" Makena's face said it all. "You moved back in with Qiang, didn't you?" The lack of an answer was an answer all the same. "Are you serious? Why would you do that?"

She shook her head and tugged the end of her now short hair. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Fine." Too harsh a response, too succinct, but also too late to fix.

They were now strolling along a walkway overlooking a sparkling river. The sun, this one so familiar, beamed down on the sisters and the water. There was something similar about all major Earth cities, Nyota supposed as they continued along. A general sense urging everyone to hustle along mixing with an air of mythology as the city created its own legend. Nyota had been to Buenos Aires once many years ago for her eighteenth birthday. She and her friends had attended party after party, drinking and singing and stumbling all the way. How different everything looked sans the shadow of night and the haze of alcohol. Almost normal.

"Where exactly are we going?" Nyota finally asked, breaking the awkward silence that had stretched for nearly three blocks.

"Two more," Makena answered, pointing to some unknown place in front of them. "Transport's cheaper here than next to the station." The officer hummed at that, though she supposed it would be rude to mention that Nyota could have gone through for free. Makena wasn't working and didn't have a student pass either, and apparently both topics were now off-limits.

Nyota blamed Qiang.

Upon reaching the transporter, Nyota and Makena waited in a line that stretched the sidewalk. "I did say it was cheapest," Makena shrugged as they both inspected the throng of people. "Pops's going to be so excited to have you back. It's about all he's been talking about since we got your message."

"He loves me more," Nyota teased, happy to be discussing a neutral subject. Her experience in smoothing out disputes for Federation diplomats and commanders had never seemed so relevant.

"You've been gone," Makena retorted, a gleam in her eye that bespoke half-accusation and half-jest. They shuffled up, step by step, person by person. In the meantime, Makena filled her in about old friends, one of Nyota's ex-boyfriends who got caught with black market Romulan tech, Mama's new research that Nyota will supposedly get an earful and then some about, and Dad's failed attempt to start an herb garden. No mention of Qiang or of Makena's abandoned Masters degree or of really anything about Makena herself.

"Finally," Makena groaned as the people in front of them transported in a flash of light. She punched in the coordinates to their neighborhood while Nyota packed her bags onto the transport pad. "Ready?" Nyota nodded, so Makena signaled for the machine to go. Buenos Aires afternoon faded into late-evening Nairobi. Yellow lights and well-dressed people walked these city streets.

Nyota breathed in and out and observed her hometown. It looked not at all different from the last time she had seen it. The skyline remained unchanged, the street perfectly maintained, the imposing houses all white imported brick and aging streetlights still intact. Makena took her suitcase and her bag, though she protested. Her sister laughed and pinched her arm without hurting her. "Come on, Mama will kill me if she sees you carry your own things into the house." With a smile, Nyota agreed.

Their home was in the Central District of Nairobi where all the historical buildings and records were kept and where the more affluent members of the city slept. Her father was an artist who worked as an illustrator for any variety of book genres, but her mother was one of the leading Terran historians of the time. Her position had gained them a place on this well-cared for road. She still constantly traveled around the globe, and to other planets in the Federation; however, Nyota's parents were both from Nairobi and had set roots down in this place long, long ago.

Would Nyota ever settle? Her thirtieth birthday loomed a few months ahead like a reminder of her own mortality. Spock was nearly three years older than her, but he would likely live the length of two full human lifetimes. For a moment, as Nyota approached her childhood home, she imagined herself as an old woman, Spock at her side looking not a day older than he did now. Maybe it was an exaggeration, but the truth still remained that even if they stayed together, they wouldn't grow old together.

It stung.

In a fit of sentiment, Nyota decided to use the ornate knocker on the door as opposed to the bell. The metal felt hot to the touch, but much cooler than it might have been midday. She gave it three resounding pulls, each one hammering out a loud bang. Nyota could almost hear Makena's eye roll from behind her.

Her dad opened the door and a barrage of memories accompanied the sight.

"Nyota, you're home."

Stating the obvious, as always. She walked forward a few steps into his waiting arms. He used to seem so tall to her, but they'd been the same height since she turned fifteen. It made her a little nostalgic, seeing him now like he belonged only in some remnant of her childhood. When she was far from home, Nyota found it easier to imagine her old life on Earth as something that happened to someone else.

"Dad." That name said it all, Nyota thought. She smiled to the point that her cheeks hurt, and she had the feeling that she might continue to experience that feeling for a while.

"Let me see her, Alhamisi." Her mother's steady voice rang in Nyota's ears before she saw her. He pulled away and busied himself with grabbing her bags from Makena, meanwhile Nyota and her mother weighed each other. Besides her height, Nyota took after her mother in most respects. "You're too thin."

Nyota laughed at the familiar greeting, shook her head, and then she hugged her mother in the same way she had her father. Despite only reaching Nyota's chin, M'Umbha Uhura never ceased to appear larger than life. Squeezing around her ribs, her mother said lowly so that only the two of them could hear, "I've missed you."

"I missed you, too." Nyota blinked away the tears from her eyes before anyone could see. Removing Nyota from her arms, her mother appraised her once more at a distance.

"I'm making a homecoming dinner."

"I ate on the shuttle."

She huffed, waving her hand. "I gave birth to you, and here you are, lying to me. This is why Kamau is my favorite daughter."

"Kamau's not even a girl!" Makena yelled, now halfway up the stairs, their father close behind with Nyota's suitcase in hand.

"Mind your business," her mother shouted back, grabbing Nyota's shoulder and directing her into the kitchen. "Starfleet obviously doesn't feed any of you. Maybe I'll file a complaint with that idiotic man who came here once? What was his name?"

Coughing to cover her smile, Nyota answered, "Jim Kirk."

"Yes. Him. The way he tripped through here," her mother said in a disapproving tone, "I'm surprised he hasn't gotten himself killed yet. Or you."

"Most people wonder that, Mama." She ignored the 'or you' addition. Ushered into the kitchen with force, Nyota sidestepped her mother's hold. "Shouldn't you offer guests the chance to rest?"

Her mother turned up her nose and crossed her arms. "Family isn't guests, no matter how old they get. Now help me set the table." With a very visible roll of her eyes, Nyota grabbed a stack of plates from the same cabinet they had always been in, three down from the wall, and walked with them into the adjacent dining room. Though most of the first floor of their home contained cool colors, the dining room was all warm wood and traditional ornamentation. She placed a plate in front of four of the chairs gathered around the far side of the table.

"Is this new?" Nyota asked, running a palm over the smoothed wood.

Nodding, her mother circled each place and laid down silverware. Her voice was sad, and she wouldn't look Nyota in the eye. "We bought it last year. I would've preferred something bigger, but your father insisted on this."

"It's very beautiful," Nyota said. The overhead light, an outdated fixture that no one had ever had the heart to get rid of, illuminated the strands of brown in her mother's dark hair, braided tightly and pulled back in a perfect knot.

"Thank you." She left the room quickly. Nyota's stomach curled with guilt, but what she was guilty of, she didn't exactly know.

After a few minutes of racking her brain, Nyota remembered that her mother had told her about the purchase sometime last year, and last year wasn't new to anyone but Nyota. Everyone else made a point to visit more than once a year, if at all. Who'd of thought she would be the child to disappoint her mother?

Dinner was burnt, which was no surprise since her mother had been cooking, and anytime their personalities clashed in course of conversation, which was no surprise since they were in the same room, Makena and her father would smooth the situation with a carefully timed joke or question. Just like old times, save for Kamau's absence.

Nyota finished eating in a hurry. Claiming exhaustion, she was able to leave to her room in record time, and while she left the confines of the dining room, she ran her fingers along the walls of the entryway. They danced on the stair railing, an original from the mid twenty-first century. The door to her childhood bedroom was shut. She opened it with a push.

Someone had dusted. There were clean sheets on the bed, and the window had been cracked open to circulate fresh air. The rocking chair in the corner had a set of towels. Her luggage had been deposited on the floor next to the door. Everything else had been as she left it at seventeen, for the most part. She had come home a lot during her undergrad years, but once she had joined Starfleet, visits had been few and far between, so changes to the décor had stopped completely. She looked fondly on an old star chart she had made in middle school.

Gingerly, Nyota sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed down the patchwork quilt. She took a deep breath. It smelled like home and laundry and rain, and she couldn't settle on happy or heartbroken at its presence. Without a final decision, Nyota departed to the hall bathroom to shower, with real, actual water, and she brushed her hair out and changed into pajamas and laid down in her bed.

How long had it been since she had last slept? That nightmare on the shuttle? She had been awake so long she wasn't sure she remembered how to not be. Maybe if she just closed her eyes and relaxed and breathed in slowly and out in the same fashion. She was safe here. Earth was safe, Nairobi was safe, her bedroom was safe, and no one could get inside the unlocked front door.

One day would she settle in a house like this? Would Spock be there, if only for a little while? Their quarters on the _Enterprise_ had lots of passcodes and security and locks, and Nyota had felt safe there just the same. Spock did, too.

Spock was safe. And …

She met Kirk's eyes as her section of the ship floated away. Shock. Denial. Anger. Confusion. _Relief._ He was safe, and he was relieved. But Nyota was not.

The attacker made an inhuman screech of a sound, rage communicated in its most potent form. She backed away, eyes darting around to find a weapon. Nothing. There was nothing and no one left to help her. She was on her own. There was no where to run.

Her nose began to itch. Nyota tried to rub at it, but then the imposing alien stomped his way over to her. She darted to the right, ducking a harsh blow that smashed into the wall instead of her head.

The itch was getting worse. They were falling into orbit, and then the entire room shook as something grabbed at them from outside. Nyota could only evade the attacker for so long.

He was coming.

Oh god, her eyes widened at the image.

 _She was going to die._

Nyota's eyes blinked open and stared into the pair of her sister's. Concern shone even in the near total darkness of the bedroom. She could hear her own ragged breaths and heart beat in her ears. Makena's finger moved from the bridge of her nose to wiping a few strands of hair from her sticky face. "It's okay, Ny. You were dreaming," her little sister whispered.

Nyota started to cry like a child.

Makena tugged her close so that Nyota buried her head on the skin of her little sister's neck. It was warm there. "I'm here. You're awake now." Soothing, low voice hushed away her tears. "You're home. It's going to be okay. Oh, Ny. It's all going to be okay now." She didn't care that it wasn't true. Nyota wanted it to be. "There you go," Makena encouraged, stroking her hair. "You don't need to cry."

"'Kena," Nyota croaked. Makena rested her cheek on the top of her head. It was like when they were younger but reversed, back when Makena would creep into her bed and say she'd had a nightmare. Nyota would hold her and then make her giggle, and they'd hide under the blankets and fall asleep side by side. Only now they were grown, and the monsters were real, and Nyota and Makena couldn't hide anymore.

Maybe Nyota could pretend for tonight.

"I'm sorry," she sighed in Makena's ear. Her sister shifted away and grabbed something from the floor.

"What for?" Makena tugged another blanket over them and laid back down. She placed her head on her arm, and Nyota grabbed her other one and held their hands together.

"For getting snot on you." They both whispered a laugh before quieting down. Nyota's window was cracked open a bit, and she could hear the chirp of bug's in the summer's night. It was so calm here, so steady. She closed her eyes.

"Hey, Ny," Makena asked. She squeezed Nyota's hand.

"Hmm?"

"What happened at Yorktown?" Nyota looked at her sister. "We heard some things on the news, but no one wanted to say anything about it." She paused. "We didn't want to make you uncomfortable," Makena admitted. "Is that what you were dreaming about?" Nyota could only nod. "Oh." She paused again and put on a thinking expression that reminded Nyota of when Makena was four. "Did someone hurt you, Ny?"

The tears were springing up again, just at those five words – _Did someone hurt you, Ny?_ Yes, lots of someones had hurt her. Nyota was hurt, inside and out. "I watched some bad things happen to good people," Nyota managed to whisper after some effort. "And I was," her voice cracked, " I was so scared I'd never get to see any of you again." Makena was brushing the water from her cheeks.

"Mama would've been so mad if you'd ended up dead." Nonchalant tone but sober reality. Her mother's heart would have been broken. Nyota choked out a laugh, but it faded back into sadness.

"They destroyed my ship." Makena clasped their hands further. "They took away my home. Just so that they could hurt people." Nyota heard thunder in the distance. "Thirty people died, and I don't know why. Spock almost -" Rain began to patter on the windowpane. Some of it hit the back of her arm through the opening, leaving goosebumps and water droplets on her skin. "He almost -" The rest was too horrible to say aloud.

"He's okay?" Makena said.

Nyota cried in earnest because he was okay, yes, but she wasn't. "He doesn't want me anymore."

"What?"

"He thinks we're illogical," she sobbed in a pathetic wobble."He wants to have children, Vulcan children, and I can't give them to him." Human. She was Human. She never thought she could hate herself so much as when Spock had told her of his intentions to return to New Vulcan.

Makena scoffed. "That's the stupidest thing I ever heard. Spock's an asshole," she declared, "and if I ever see his stupid pointy face again, I'll punch it. And then I'll let Kamau finish the job, because I'm just nice like that."

"He has to think about his people," Nyota defended through her tears.

"Maybe he should've thought about them before he fell in love with you-" Makena started, but then Nyota talked over her.

"No one knew when we got together that -"

"Fuck him, Ny. He can take his logic and shove it up his ass -"

"- Vulcan would be destroyed."

"Listen," the rain poured down harder, accenting Makena's words, "I know that his life has been difficult. And yeah, maybe nothing compares to having your planet blown up, but Ny, everybody's life is hard. He doesn't get a special pass to breaking your heart just because of it. Not to me."

What about Qiang? Makena should take her own advice.

Nyota was still crying when she sniffled a small, "Thanks." Her necklace choked her as she did. She knew she shouldn't sleep with it on, but she also couldn't bear to take it off. "Makena, he wants to get back together."

"Hold on – what? I thought you said, you know, he wanted to go make little nasty Vulcan brats with some emotionless, watered-down version of you." Her sister had a vivid vocabulary, Nyota granted her that.

"He changed his mind."

Makena clicked her tongue and with a bitter note proclaimed, "He doesn't get to just change his mind."

"I know."

"So you aren't ..."

"I don't know," Nyota admitted.

"What does that mean?" A crack of thunder crashed in Nyota's eardrums.

"I mean if he loved me the way I love him, he never would've considered leaving. And I don't know what to do about it anymore." Her voice fell into harsh syllables. Fury bubbled up inside her at the truth of the words. It made her want to hurt him the way he had hurt her, and she knew it wouldn't make her feel better, but sometimes exacting one's own form of justice was more important than moral axioms about forgiveness.

And there it was. Nyota hadn't forgiven him. She wondered if she ever would because it was about more than continuing his species. If it was just that, Nyota might understand, if perhaps not agree, with his logic. But it was more. It implied more. He had declared where she fit into his priorities, and she came down further on his list than she could accept. Duty, family, the ship, the crew, for goodness' sake, Jim Kirk probably sat higher up on it than she did.

Nyota considered ripping the necklace from her skin and tossing it out into the rain, but if it was going to be her last piece of home, last piece of Spock, then she wouldn't. Nyota might be logical for a Human, but she was as sentimental as the rest, and the amulet meant more than her or Spock now. It meant having something to hold onto in the dark. Nyota was still in that place, and she didn't know when she'd be out of it again. Maybe that was why she wanted to take Eilum's proposal. Maybe it could be a way to tie up loose ends in the place where she had lost so much. She needed closure that Spock couldn't provide, and she didn't want to, but a small part of her begrudged him that inability.

She wasn't perfect, no matter how hard she tried to be.

"Ny, are you asleep?"

"No."

"Oh. Ny?"

"Yes?"

Makena snuggled in close, her body hear permeating Nyota's cold thoughts. "No matter what, I love you. Whenever you get tired of the stars, I'll be here waiting." She giggled, "Sorry, that was a really sappy thing to say."

"No," Nyota disagreed quietly, "and I'm always there for you also. Even if I'm gone, you can talk to me whenever you need."

"Oh, god," Makena groaned, "I might suffocate myself in the blankets. Is this an after school special?"

"I love you so so so so so," Nyota continued on until Makena started to mimic choking herself, and then, "so so much. You're just a baby."

"I'm not."

"So small."

"We're the same size!"

"Goodnight, 'Kena."

Makena mumbled a goodnight, and when Nyota fell asleep once more, she dreamed of nothing at all.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the support so far, makes me smile! Expect the next update this weekend :)


	4. Chapter 4

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **Act I**

 **Part 4**

The next morning a heavy weight toppled onto the mattress squarely between Nyota and Makena. Both sisters jumped at the sudden foreign body, but Kamau's victorious laughter calmed them. Until Makena started to loudly complain. "I was sleeping!"

Kamau threw an arm around both their shoulders and tugged them close. Nyota fought her way to freedom easily, but Makena had a little more trouble. "Good morning, then," Kamau grinned. His voice was like theirs, but a little deeper and softer. While Makena and Kamau exchanged friendly insults, Nyota settled back against the window and watched on with contentment. Makena turned into a nine year old, and Kamau became eighteen, and everything was right with the world.

He looked so much like their dad.

"Ny," Makena whined, "tell Kamu to stop." He was pinching her cheek.

"Stop," Nyota repeated without any heart.

"But she's so little," Kamau whined himself. When he wasn't around Makena, Kamau was just about the calmest person Nyota knew, but put the two of them together, and things were bound to end in teasing.

"I am not!"

"Twelve."

"Fifty!"

"I am not that old," Kamau said with an aghast expression.

A knock at the door came seconds before her dad popped his head in the room. "I made breakfast, in case anyone's interested." Makena was gone within seconds of his arrival, and as her footsteps pattered out of hearing, Kamau and Nyota were left alone in her dust. She smiled over at him, enjoying the morning sun and his being there.

"It's good to see you," Nyota said, right around the time Kamau frowned and leaned over to her. She expected a proper greeting now that Makena had left, but instead she got a shocking revelation.

"Nina's pregnant, and I don't know how to tell Mama."

Kamau had the tact of a toddler.

Nyota could only blink a few times. Nina was pregnant? Nyota was going to be an aunt? Still, she gathered herself quickly, even by her own standards. She hugged him. "Kamau, wow. Congratulations," Nyota exclaimed, but he just shook his head. She moved back, confused.

"Yes, yes, we're very happy, but how am I going to tell Mama?" Kamau whined with a slightly desperate ring.

"What do you mean? Won't she be happy?" Kamau shot Nyota an irritated look because everyone knew that Nina and their mother just didn't get along, to put it politely. Nyota laughed a little to make him feel better. "Mama hates everyone we date."

"Dating sure," Kamau allowed with a slight tilt to his head. His dark hair was haloed by the sun coming through the window behind him. "But we've been married for five years."

It was a fair criticism. "Well. I don't know, Kamau. I think it'll be fine," Nyota assured before reaching over and squeezing his shoulder. "You're going to be a dad! That's amazing. And so, so strange. How far along is Nina?"

"Fifteen weeks," Kamau told her, somewhat distracted by her question. "We've been trying for a year. It doesn't seem real that it's finally happened."

"I didn't know you were trying to have a baby?" Nyota asked, but of course she didn't because she'd been gone, and for all she was an excellent communications officer, keeping in touch with her family had never been one of her priorities. She regretted it now.

He waved her off. "Well I only told Dad, but that was a long time ago. I think he's probably forgotten about it by now." Kamau's eyes brightened. "They said it's probably going to be a girl."

"A girl? Kamau," Nyota sighed with joy. She might have a niece, someone to spoil and love. More people to love was always better.

They went down, and Kamau and Nina made their big announcement. As they continued talking through breakfast about babies and Nina and his book and her newest paper on the updated universal translator on Federation shuttles and Luna, Nyota promised herself she would keep more up to date this time around.

* * *

The morning had started out so lovely, but Nyota's puffy red eyes told another story about the rest of it. She turned them upwards as she walked out the back door.

Stars looked more mysterious from Earth. Something about the way they sat in the sky, as though Nyota might be able to grab something so far away. The universe existed on the large scale in a homogeneous state, but Nyota lived in the small scale, and things just _were_ different from her perspective.

The night air was a welcome reprieve from the sticky summer afternoon. A light breeze picked up her loose hair, and as Nyota approached her father laid out on the grass, she saw new lines in his skin for the first time. "Hello," he greeted. He lifted his head up a bit to acknowledge her before settling back. Nyota sat down, one knee up to rest under chin, the other spread out on the grass beside him. The neighbors had lit a bonfire from their side of the thick, white fence. It smelled like burning leaves and long ago summers so different than the one today.

She sighed. "Dad, how can you let Makena be with him?"

Dinner had not gone well. Kamau and Nina had stayed all day, but once they had all sat around the table for the evening meal, Qiang had shown up. Of course, no one but Makena was going to welcome him in, and her mother almost came to blows with Makena's no longer ex-boyfriend once he had entered their front door. Kamau had been ready to help out.

Makena had called them all horrible, claimed that no one understood anything, and then left with Qiang, not heeding anyone's calls to stay. Kamau and Nina had hugged them all goodbye soon after. Just three of them left in the house now.

For all the time her father had spent cooking, no one had eaten much of anything.

Her answer came first in the form of a belly-deep laugh. "Oh my. Baby girl, I don't let Makena do anything. In case you hadn't notice, she's twenty-three years old. And she's smart as a whip. Except," he allowed with a hint of hesitation, "when it comes to partners."

"I hate Qiang." Her voice dripped with it.

"You aren't alone there, I promise you that." Then he was laughing again. "I had to stop your mother from beating the man to death last time he darkened our doorstep, too. What a night that was." Good, Nyota thought. He deserved to be chased off like a dog. She never wanted to see him again.

"He's ruining her."

A warning laced her father's answer. "Watch what you say, Nyota. Pushing her away now's only going to make her want to run to him more. You remember what your mama said when that boy of yours came home for dinner?"

Her sigh was different this time. Those words had been burned into her mind, the end of a similarly tense evening. "Being with someone more complicated than yourself is asking for trouble," Nyota repeated. "But Spock and Qiang are not the same, and neither are Makena and I. It's so different."

"But what she said didn't change a thing, did it?"

"Of course it didn't. It wasn't any of Mama's business ..." Nyota trailed off, understanding the point. She made a harrumphing kind of noise she would only ever allow herself in private.

Her dad crossed his hands behind his head, shifting a bit to get more comfortable. "So, how is Spock?" Nyota had to try very hard not to pick at the blades of grass tickling her bare shins.

"Fine."

Sitting up and leaning back on his arms, he gazed at her with an incredulous expression. "Fine? Normally you'd be telling me everything down to what he's wearing on your next shore leave."

"Things are a little -" Nyota paused, searching her brain for the correct phrasing. "Things are a little complicated right now." She couldn't help but tickle the grass on her palms as a distraction.

"Complicated, huh?" He sounded smug. Okay, so Nyota knew that she sounded like a hypocrite. Spock still wasn't Qiang. He didn't cheat on her with her best friend. Make the whole thing seems like her fault. Even the idea of it made her nearly snort with incredulity. "What did he do?"

She smiled a little at him. "You assume he did something."

"You don't see the way that boy looks at you. I doubt you could do anything he wouldn't forgive." But not her. No, he implied, Nyota didn't look at Spock that way? Was that true?

Nyota couldn't help the anxiety that accompanied her response. "You haven't seen either of us for a long while, Dad. Things change."

"But you love him still?"

The necklace suddenly weighed an entire ton, dragging her mind down with it. She thought of the Spock she met at the Academy, a recent graduate still trying to navigate his way through human culture, and the Spock who had given her this very necklace, and the Spock she had left behind in the shuttle bay. Love him? Of course she did. She loved him with every fiber of her being. She always would. But sometimes love just wasn't enough. Relationships depended on timing, and time was just always going to work against them.

If she were to stay with him, she would never have _this_. Children (a near genetic impossibility for them, they'd been assured by M'Benga), a house with a fence, a man who could show what he felt about her without having to cover it up under philosophical questions and coded messages entrenched in a logic that was simply foreign despite her best efforts. And after she died, then what? He would meet someone new. He would build a new life without her. She would be the human woman he'd seen in his youth. A rebellious phase, his Vulcan peers might comment. A lapse in judgment. That's what she would become.

The Spock from the other universe hadn't even bothered. Maybe things just weren't meant to -

"Nyota? Are you okay?" Her dad's voice interrupted, a mixture of amusement and concern. Strange combination.

She blinked and found her right hand had gone to hold the amulet. "I'm sorry. What was the question?"

He blew out a quick burst of air, a sign of exasperation. "Don't you worry about it. Why don't we head back in?" She followed him back into the house. "There's something I want to give you. Come here." Again, Nyota followed a step behind her father as he led them into the small studio where he did most of his work. It was one of the few rooms where his taste dominated her mothers in terms of decoration. It was in the contemporary style of the day, so that meant metallic everywhere.

For once, Nyota could agree with her mother's disapproval. It was just plain ugly, which was probably why her father liked it.

"Wait for a minute." He gestured a one with his finger before turning to rifle in various drawers and nooks of the space. Nyota took a seat in one of the various stools littered about the room and closed her eyes.

" _Why do you always take their side, Ny?" Makena cried from the front steps as Nyota tried to convince her not to go. "I wish you'd never come back. Every time you do, they drop everything, and they try so hard to make you feel welcome, but you never make the effort."_

 _"Stop trying to change the subject to me," Nyota accused, stopping in her tracks. She wasn't going to chase someone who didn't want to be caught. Makena, with a silent Qiang in hand, stopped, too._

 _"Why shouldn't I? Everything's always about you anyways, and it always will be, and you know what? I don't even care anymore." Makena tried to sound tough and sure, but Nyota was too good at reading people's voices not to hear the tears that were building up behind the bravado. "I can't do anything right according to anyone in this family, so I'm through with all of you._

 _Nyota tried not to glare at Qiang while she spoke. "You're being childish. Can't you see he's manipulating you?"_

 _"I can think for myself!" Makena screamed, stunning Nyota long enough for her to walk away without protest._

"Ah-ha!" he cried out, pulling a small, string bag from a loose collection of paintbrushes. As her father settled a stool across from her, he started to untie the knot. "Now, before you try and fight me about it, I'll have you know I thought long and hard about this. So no refusing, you just take it, okay?" He looked at her with an open, expectant expression.

Nyota tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "What's this about?"

"Just promise me," he requested.

If it were anyone else, even her mother, Nyota would have said no. She sighed. "Okay."

"You promise?"

She barely restrained an eye roll. "I promise. Now cut the suspense, Dad, and just ..." Nyota trailed off as her father pulled a golden band from the velvet pouch. It stood out among the gray of the studio and sparkled in the light overhead.

Before Nyota could get a word in, her father began to explain, holding the ring between two fingers. "This belonged to my father. He and my mother were only married for a few years before he died, but she always told me he loved like he lived, with everything he had." Her father's voice choked up in the same way Makena's did when she was upset. Because Nyota could only comfort one of them, she reached and squeezed her father's free hand tighter than she might have on a different night.

"She left this to me last year when she died, and I've wanted you to have it ever since." Nyota had just missed her grandmother's passing. It happened only a month after the _Enterprise_ set out again after Jim's son was born, and it hit her hard that she wasn't there.

Nyota blinked away the old wound. "Dad, I can't. You should keep it."

"I already have my own ring. And my father died when I was six years old," he tried to joke, "I don't think he'll be missing it. In fact, I think he'd be proud of you and what you and Spock have overcome these past few years." She wanted to tell him how with every passing day, 'Nyota and Spock' were becoming a fading relic of the past, but she just couldn't. "I'm not saying go propose to the man, or even to give it to him. Keep it for yourself if you want. It's yours now, Nyota, and you have always made your own choices in all that you do. That's something your grandfather would've respected and loved about you if he could've met you."

Since Nyota had promised to accept it, she let her father place the ring in her palm. It was plain with no inscription or embellishment. No stone either, just a band of gold. She can't help but think that it would've suited Spock. "Thank you. This means," she paused, trying to collect her thoughts, "so much to me right now."

He smiled in the way he did when she was little, when he was the best and greatest person in the sector.

"You're welcome."

* * *

London gleamed like something out of a corporate fairytale.

The clouds overhead snowed on everything, covering sidewalks and streets and small patches of city wilderness and Nyota's head alike. Grays of all shades passed Nyota by as she walked down the block to Carol's apartment. Down a narrow alley between apartments, she caught sight of a lone, small girl writing something in the snow with a gloved finger. Nyota's boots crunched on the ground, and a chirping laugh carried from down the street.

Carol's apartment building appeared somewhat new, though the stone steps leading up to the door were most certainly not. Carol buzzed her in quickly, and Nyota opened the now unlocked front door.

The entry room was empty, all bright tiles and white walls, and the clacking of her shoes echoed in the silence. A few colorful paintings were framed on the back wall, perpendicular to the elevator Nyota waited for. Rows of drooping plants lined the far corner. They needed to be put more directly in front of the window, Nyota thought as she entered the lift. She called out for the fourth floor and waited a few moments. The elevator moved silently, and Nyota caught sight of her reflection in the glossy wall to her right. New clothes covered her frame (her mother had gone out to get them once Nyota admitted that most of her things were gone), and her hair hung loose down her back.

She left the elevator and stepped into a boxy hallway that had light wooden floors. Nyota approached Carol's door and checked the number to make sure it was right before buzzing the panel. Kirk's letter burnt a whole in the pocket of her jacket.

Carol opened the door with a smile. "Uhura!" They hugged for a quick moment. "It's so good to see you. And right on time, too." The distinct, bright London accent hit her ears pleasantly.

Lips upturned, Nyota returned the sentiment. Carol stepped back and invited her in with a welcoming gesture. A long, pale yellow hallway stretched in front of Nyota with the same wood from the previous room. It ended in an archway, and while the decorations were minimal, Nyota saw that they had slightly changed from the last time she had visited. A new mirror over an end table, a mint green rug by the front door. "Come on." Carol nodded for Uhura to follow her down the hall. "I have to get David up from his nap. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. How old is he again?" Nyota already knew the answer, but it seemed like a polite thing to ask. Carol gave his age the same way Kirk had, with the same kind of delight in simply announcing something about her child. The archway led into a small, but spacious living room which was attached to a small but not so spacious kitchen and dining area. Carol led them into a side room that contained the star-themed nursery Nyota had seen less than a year ago.

Dimmed lighting covered the expanse of the room, but Nyota could still see the wakened baby in the crib. She waited by the door while Carol approached him. David made a happy sort of sound, bouncing before she picked him up and blanket coming along with him. "He's gotten so big," Nyota said, looking at David's flushed cheeks and blonde hair. As they walked back out into the living room, she got a better view. "He looks so much like you."

Carol laughed. "Everyone says that. He's my mini-me, right love?" David began to babble something unintelligible in a sleepy tone of voice to which Carol responded every now and again with a sympathetic noise. "He's also an escape artist. I'm almost dreading the day he learns to walk. He only crawls right now, but he still manages to break free from his crib and playpen. Don't ask me how." She deposited David and his blanket in an enclosed area of the living room that was filled with toys. He just laid there. "He'll get up eventually. Anyway, I'm sorry, would you like some tea?"

"That sounds great," Nyota responded.

"Sit, sit," Carol insisted, walking over to the kitchen. Nyota sat down on the nearby sofa, and David rolled over and stared at her with Jim Kirk's eyes. Carol opened a cabinet. "Is mint alright? I meant to go buy more today, but never got around to it."

"It's perfect." David kept staring at her. He crawled up confidently to the gate, shifted into a sitting position and started to babble at Nyota. She had a strange kind of feeling, knowing that there was no way to translate any of it accurately.

As Carol bustled around the kitchen, she called out to her. "He'll talk your ear off, just a fair warning."

"I can tell." Nyota smiled at David, and then he paused and smiled back. Not Carol or Jim. Just a David smile. "Hello, David." She waved. He said something in return, which Nyota decided to interpret as a greeting. Carol came back in with two mismatched mugs, handing a blue speckled one to Nyota. She took a drink. "Thank you."

Carol shook her head. "Welcome. So, how are you? I can't even believe what happened at Yorktown." Nyota nodded.

"I'm fine. Things are calming down there." Nyota did her best to keep her voice light. "The new ship should be ready in a few weeks." How would she even approach Kirk about her possibly leaving? It was an uncomfortable reality she would, maybe, soon have to face.

Carol sipped from her plain white mug. "Lucky they happened to be building one on site. It'll be another _Enterprise_ , yes?"

" _Enterprise-A_." Nyota turned her eyes to David, who had now abandoned his post at the gate in favor of slobbering on a set of large, multicolored blocks. "Before I forget," Nyota said, pulling out the missive from her jacket and stretching her hand out to Carol. The other woman put down her cup and grabbed the envelope. "It's from Jim."

She half-expected Carol to open it in front of her, but instead, she simply set it down and picked up the mug once again. "Thank you so much for bringing it here. It was sweet of you, really."

"No trouble."

Carol and Nyota had always gotten along, but Nyota perceived a distance between them now, and an awkward silence or two seemed almost inevitable. Odd, though, when Nyota considered how many days they'd spent in each others company, meeting Spock and Carol late at night in the labs or eating meals together. Working on the Bridge. Those days felt so long gone.

"How's everyone else holding up?" Carol finally asked, and a little guilt coursed through Nyota that she had not been the one to bring them up.

"Mostly good," Nyota answered, sipping her tea once more. "It's too bad about Waters."

Carol froze, glass half-lifted to her mouth. She brought her arm back down. "No. What do you mean?"

And Nyota thought the silence had been painful. How could she not know? "I'm sorry, I thought someone would've told you."

"Told me what?" Carol interrupted before she could finish. Quick pull of the words, eyebrows turned down. Nervous. Worried.

Kirk was an idiot for not saying anything about it.

"She's missing. No one's seen her since the ship crashed on Altamid." The information visibly deflated Carol, and her hands began to shake noticeably. Nyota placed her own mug down on a coaster and waited.

Carol looked on the verge of tears. "No one said anything about … Jim didn't … is she dead?" The last part hit Nyota's ears harshly.

"We don't know. There's a handful of cases like hers, a few officers who never made it back but who aren't confirmed dead." One of Nyota's communications officers was among them. Georgia Vinn. Only twenty-four, transferred from the _Kimmel_ a year ago, quiet, calm, competent. Nyota chose to believe she was alive. A long shot, perhaps, but a possibility nevertheless.

She was so young, around Makena and Chekov's age. Kirk said that her parents had cried when he told them.

Carol narrowed her watery gaze. "But there's something else."

Nyota couldn't help the sigh that escaped her lips. "There's been talk, among some of the investigators, that she ... to put it bluntly, deserted her post." Criminal backgrounds didn't mix well with suspicious disappearances, regardless of the circumstances. "Obviously, it's just talk, nothing more than gossip really," she added a little too quickly. "There's no evidence to support it, at all." A lot of stipulations in that answer. Nyota should've chosen her words more thoughtfully, with more precision.

"That doesn't even make sense." Clutching the tea, Carol's voice turned indignant. "Penelope wouldn't do that."

"Jim agrees, but ultimately, it's out of his hands for now. And it won't matter anyways if they find -" Nyota was going to say 'if they find a body', but some instinct told her not to. It was too late, though. The implication hung between them unspoken but as present as if it had been.

Another period of small silence punctuated the tense moment. Then, Carol spoke up again. The sound came out small, a little lonely. "Do you think she's dead?"

Nyota's opinion?

"I don't know." True. "But," she continued, "Waters has the habit of surviving bad situations. If anyone will turn up, it'll be her." That improved the situation considerably, leading to a quiet, strained laugh from Carol. Not the best, but it could be worse. There could be crying.

"That's very true, isn't it?" Carol's eyes turned downwards. "I had wondered why she hadn't been returning any of my messages lately. She's very punctual about that, you know? Not really with anything else, but," Carol stopped. Nyota hadn't known that, though her conversations with the engineer were mostly limited to ship's business because, frankly, Waters wasn't one for conversation. Kind of like talking to a brick wall at times.

"She's probably fine," Carol said quietly, almost to herself.

Nyota's mug lifted towards Carol, trying to draw the scientist's attention away from her own thoughts. "To scraping through," Nyota proposed. Grateful smile directed her way, Nyota and Carol clanked their cups together.

"To scraping through." David punctuated the silence by babbling once more. It distracted Nyota for a moment. "But how about you? I mean really, how are you? Not things," Carol clarified, "not the ship or everyone else. How are _you_?"

That was a sweet way to phrase the question, but the truth wasn't nice, and Nyota didn't really want to talk about her life. "Tired," she admitted. Vague would be best. "A little shocked at what's happened." Nyota shrugged. "I am happy to be home, and I wish I had more time to spend here. Overall, I'm okay, in case you're worried."

"Is it showing?" Carol asked a little sheepishly. "And Jim's alright? You know how he can be. It's hard to tell over subspace which parts are the lies." Laughing a little, Nyota gulped down the last of her tea.

"He's more ready than any of us to get back out there. I think he's happier than he's been recently, despite everything." Her mind drifted to Sam Kirk and M'Benga and Kita and how depressed Kirk seemed lately. "Excited. A new ship is good for him. If it had happened any other way, it might have been better, but as things are." She shrugged again, letting that movement speak for her.

Mug settled on the table, Carol now busied her hands with holding the envelope. She just put it in her hands, not trying to open it. Delicate fingers nervously mused the edges of the paper. "I'm glad. A distraction can help."

"Yes." Nyota flicked her eyes from Carol's hands to her face. "And you?"

"Huh?"

She smiled. "How are you, Carol? Not things, but you," Nyota mimicked, trying to draw her out from whatever she was thinking about the letter.

"I've never been more exhausted," Carol admitted, letting the letter drift back to the table. "But David makes me so happy, I hardly care. The hardest thing was going back to work last month. I know my mom wouldn't let anything happen to him, but I just wanted to be here. Still, I'm glad to be back." Before Nyota could ask about her work, Carol expanded. "I'm leaving Starfleet by next year."

Nyota grinned. "I assume because something else caught your eye?"

She laughed. "Yes, exactly. Daystrom's offered me a research position that's too good to refuse. It's much more independent than they're letting me do right now, and if I never had to answer to another Commander, I think I could die happy. Granted," Carol allowed, "Starfleet's been talking for forever about incorporating the Institute into their operations. Few years down the road and I may have to join up again."

"What's it like there?"

Carol described the Daystrom Institute the way Sulu described the Interplanetary Botanical Community in the LMC. With a reverence typically reserved for deities, Carol spoke of winding hallways lined with stained glass windows from Earth in the seventeenth century and of laboratories decorated with only the most up-to-date telescopes, microscopes, and computer databases. Nyota listened with rapt attention, nodding and smiling in the appropriate places, but all the while thinking that Carol might have been hoping for someone else from the ship to visit her.

At one point in her visit, Nyota was holding David while Carol made his lunch. He had a surprising weight to him, and he grabbed at her hair and smiled a lot. She smiled back in return and carefully tore her hair from his grasp. He was so soft and warm and happy, and she couldn't help but feel that Kirk was missing out on something important here.

Was this really what Spock had wanted? Nyota looked curiously down at the baby in her arms. David squirmed against her hold. Did he even think of the consequences of starting a family, instead of just the logical goal of continuing his species? What an impulsive idiot Spock could be.

But did she ever want this? A family of her own, like Kamau and Nina or Jim and Carol. Sulu had Ben and Demora. McCoy had Joanna. Giotto had his adorable six year old son, Jake. Yvette had two step-children with her husband.

Maybe if they couldn't biologically have children together, Spock and Nyota could …

But it didn't matter because they weren't together anymore, and any future that might have been was gone.

* * *

The shuttle for Yorktown waited to leave in, of all places, Riverside Shipyard. When Nyota had received the notification on her family's interface, she had to reread it four times before she believed it. There it was: Riverside, Iowa. Jim Kirk's hometown, the place he bragged had the best (only) dive bar in the county, the place where they'd met. She'd been a cadet for a year already. He'd been an asshole. Spock had been an unknown entity.

"You have everything you need?" her dad asked as she approached the transportation pad at the end of the block. Her mother stood back and allowed them their farewells. It felt like her first day of elementary school. Nyota smiled at him and nodded.

"Yes."

"You grabbed your jacket? It'll be cold in Iowa."

She threw her arms around his ribs and squeezed. "I have everything I need." He hugged her back. "Thanks, Dad." The summer heat invaded everything, but Nyota ignored the miserable weight of the sun and hugged her dad a little while longer. He finally nodded.

"Alright." They pulled away, and then her mother replaced her father's place in her arms.

"Makena's going to regret not saying goodbye," she said unnecessarily after they had briefly embraced. Nyota shrugged, trying to look less hurt by her sister's absence than she really was.

"I'll send her a message when I get back to base," Nyota replied. Pulling her things fully into the transporter, Nyota stood in the center and waved to her parents.

"We'll be seeing you," her dad smiled. No one specified a date because no one knew when exactly that would be.

"Yeah."

"Be safe, baby," her mother called out just before Nyota's molecules were scattered. She made sure to smile widely at her mother just before she disappeared for years on end. San Francisco replaced Nairobi. Nyota had decided to take a private detour before her departure. Familiar with the landscape of the city, she easily caught a transport to the Academy.

In San Francisco's city within a city, the Academy grounds stretched acres across prime real estate in the heart of Earth's capital. Nyota walked through an open entrance gate and strode along nostalgic scenes. The cafe on the outskirts of campus where Spock first agreed to go on a date. The bench that she had seen Kirk throw up on a total of nine times. The flower garden where she liked to study and now where a plaque rested in the dirt. She veered off from the pavement and down the stepping stones to see it.

A man's face molded into place beside a name, rank, and date of birth before changing into another's, and then another's. Nyota kneeled down, her luggage piled beside her, and tapped a name into the nearby panel.

Gaila always smiled for her identification photos. Nyota paused the sequence of faces and stared down at her old roommate's face. She wondered if someday she would ever stop feeling guilty. And for what, she could not be sure. Not dying with her on the _Farragut_?

"Hello," Nyota said, placing her hand on Gaila's holographic cheek for a moment. There she stayed for maybe five minutes. Her knees ached from the position, but her mind wandered through old memories and stories, through the laughter and the late nights and the irritation. Gaila had a knack for bothering her, as did anyone who lived in close quarters for nearly three years together. But Nyota had been closer to no other person while she studied to become an officer.

Gaila had wanted to be an officer, too, but the rank beside her face read _Cadet_ and always would.

With a sigh, Nyota pulled herself back up and gathered her belonging. She pressed the panel with the toe of her shoe, and the slideshow of faces continued. The walk back through the gates seemed to take less time, and before she knew it, Nyota had reached the next transport to Iowa.

Riverside announced itself with a crumbling road and a few underdressed people walking slowly along the sidewalk. City Hall, the only well maintained building in sight, rose up only three stories, composed of white limestone. The emerald green lawn stretched out on the other side of the street, and a fountain spurted water into a large basin through the lips of a few stone fish. No one lingered in the downtown, if Nyota considered it that.

As she pulled on her coat to fight against the winter wind, Nyota tried not to think of how pathetic this place looked in comparison to her home.

Out of nowhere, an old car sped down the street, going opposite to her as she walked towards the bus stop. With chipping blue paint and spurting gray clouds, it looked like it might be running on actual gasoline, and the young woman driving it let out a happy yelp as she passed. Her group of friends in the car laughed loudly. Tires screeched against the pavement and left black skid marks on the road. Nyota paused and turned her head to watch as the car swerved off down a side road. This place was where Kirk had grown up.

Once Nyota continued on, she started to scrutinize all the stores and houses she walked by. McCoy had apparently been here another time, in a story he liked to tease Kirk about whenever he tried aggrandizing his home. What had he called it again?

Oh, right. _Middle of Bum-Hick Nowhereville, North America._

In return, Kirk would start to make jokes about Georgia _cricks_ , then Chekov would interject with an obviously fake story about Moscow when they all knew he'd been raised in some middle-sized suburban town. Scotty would mention something about kilts and Celtic folklore, and Spock would declare such stories sentimental, how Vulcan children read textbooks or other such nonsense before bed. Keenser would say nothing, but he would glare at Spock in mock defense of his fellow engineer.

Sulu would share an exasperated expression with Nyota, but Kirk would catch him and make a joke about California surfer dudes, and …

Nyota was going to leave all of that behind, wasn't she? Her mind really had been made up. The suitcase rolled behind her as she approached the glass covered bench underneath the bus stop sign. Soon she'd be on the shuttle back to Yorktown, and that's where she intended to stay. Spock be damned. Kirk be damned.

She needed this for herself.

It started to snow big fluffy flakes. A few cars flew past. Two couples strolled down past Nyota, talking about dinner plans. An elderly man greeted her and took a seat on the other side of the bench. A traffic light flickered yellow off in the distance. Off. On. Off. On. A stop sign had been toppled at the end of the block. A few more people walked down the sidewalk, everyone's cheeks reddened from the chill.

Had Kirk ever been happy here?

Thinking of the group in the speeding car, and honestly what else was there to do in a place like this, Nyota wondered if leaving Riverside had been the best thing that had ever happened to Jim Kirk. If maybe it had saved him.

* * *

Nyota dropped her luggage on the floor of her quarters and made a beeline for the bed.

Then her computer dinged with an incoming message. She held back a groan and called out for the computer to play the audio. "Paris says you're back," Eilum's voice relayed over the comm system. Nyota pulled her boots from her feet as she listened. "I got your message from yesterday. Swing by my office at 15:00. We'll finalize the details and paperwork. Welcome to the crew, Nyota."

She wanted to curse when the computer's chronometer read out the time as 14:45. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Nyota grumbled to herself, putting her boots back on. With a quick check in the mirror, Nyota smoothed out her skirt and exited her quarters once more. Down the turbolift across the street and into the transporter for HQ and jogging into the next turbolift to the command center. Once she stepped into the room, Nyota walked down a side corridor, and Eilum's assistant told her to go ahead in.

The Captain still needed to clean her office, but Nyota never made the same mistake twice. She didn't even blink as she weaved through still-unpacked boxes strewn around the floor. Truthfully, she expected to see Eilum in another strange pose seated on anything but her chair.

Instead, Nyota came face to face with a child of eight at the most. She had eyes like Eilum, spots like Eilum, but her hair shone dark brown, and she had a naturally tan pigmentation to her skin. Nyota was about to say hello when another eight year old popped up from under the desk. The two girls had slightly different noses, and the second child's hair was slightly lighter in color, but other then that, Nyota couldn't tell them apart.

"Are you here to see my mommy?" the first girl asked, spinning in Eilum's chair. The second girl pushed her sister over and squeezed right into the space beside her.

"Is your mom Captain Eilum?" Nyota asked politely.

"Yes," the second girl answered.

"Then yes. Do you know where she is?"

"No," the first girl said just as the second girl replied, "Yes."

Nyota's eyes darted between them suspiciously. "Can you tell me where?"

The second girl glared at the first before turning her gaze back to Nyota. "She's outside." Nyota was about to ask 'Where outside', but then the first girl giggled and pointed her finger to the window facing Central Plaza. At first, she assumed that meant that Eilum had left her office and gone down.

Then Nyota caught sight of Eilum climbing along the window railing. Nyota muttered a curse under her breath, surging forward and unlatching the window. The girls seemed totally unconcerned with the whole situation. Nyota shoved her head out into the air and came face to face with Eilum, who had a similarly serene expression on her face. "Captain, what are you doing?"

Eilum smiled and let go of one hand's hold on the wall to wave at her. From behind Eilum's head, Nyota could see another person with her. He wore the station uniform, a gray jumpsuit similar in color to what officers wore at the Academy, and his collar shown yellow, like Eilum's. Nyota thought he looked Deltan from the bald head and the entrancing vision he created.

"Give us one minute, Lieutenant," Eilum requested. Once Nyota assured herself of their safety harnesses and gravity manipulators, she moved back into the office. She tried to slow her heart by leaning against the nearby wall. What was Nyota getting into with this Captain?

The girl with the lighter hair tugged at her sleeve. Nyota opened her eyes and looked down, surprised at how she had managed to move so quietly. "Can you open this?" She presented Nyota with a tin with a cap that twisted off. While Nyota took off the top, Eilum and the other officer climbed back into the office through the window. She handed off the tin full of crayons to the child.

"I was trying to see if the office could be extended out along this wall," Eilum explained as she accepted Nyota's helping hand. Before Nyota could even ask what that meant, or why she had to go out herself instead of leaving it to a professional, Eilum called out, "Lizzy, I see you coloring on my desk!"

"Jacey told me to," Lizzy, the girl with the darker hair, claimed.

Nyota took a step back and tried not to sigh at the entire situation. "No I didn't!" Jacey crossed her arms, running back to the desk with her tin. Nyota didn't need to be a linguistics expert to detect the lie. Eilum gave them both a stern look that Nyota thought might be universal across the known universe for mothers.

Then she turned a different, softer one to Nyota. "Long time, no see. This is Commander Bell," Eilum introduced, motioning to the man behind her, "our tactical officer."

Nyota held out her hand to shake his, and he obliged. "Nyota Uhura," she greeted. She had a difficult time letting go of him but with the practice of all her diplomacy training, she managed it with little outward hesitancy.

"It's nice to finally meet you." His voice was smooth and calm, almost Vulcan in its lack of inflection. Bell cast his eyes over to Eilum.

"I told him you were going to be our liaison officer," Eilum announced, patting Bell on the shoulder before she meandered through the mess over to her desk. She lifted Jacey, or was that one Lizzy, from her chair to the response of a giggle. Both girls retreated out of the office, carrying tablets and colors in their hands. "Was I right?"

Nyota breathed in. Then she nodded.

The lines around Eilum's dark eyes crinkled as she grinned at her newest crewmember. "Good choice. Now, the real question is: who's going to tell Captain Kirk?"

* * *

A/N: That's the end of the first act, people! :) I know this chapter was long, but I couldn't find a way to split it up right, so sorry for that. Also, thanks so much to everyone for all the reviews and favorites, views, etc.!


	5. Chapter 5

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **ACT II**

 _What happens to a dream deferred?_  
 _Does it dry up_  
 _Like a raisin in the sun?_  
 _Or fester like a sore-_  
 _And then run?_  
 _Does it stink like rotten meat?_  
 _Or crust and sugar over-_  
 _like a syrupy sweet?_  
 _Maybe it just sags_  
 _like a heavy load._

 _Or does it explode?_

-Langston Hughes, A Dream Deferred

 **Part 1**

"No."

Nyota wouldn't even have to hear Kirk to know what he had said. His gaze was firm, his lips pulled downward into a well-worn frown. He straightened his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest as though he were ready to defend his refusal. For once, he looked the stereotypical Starfleet Captain. She had a flash of him in Iowa in that dive bar, twenty-two, already tipsy, dusty clothes and a flirty smile. And now he sat across the cafe table thirty, perpetually exhausted, pressed uniform and not a hint of a grin.

"Captain," Nyota wanted again to go through the points of her departure, but he interrupted.

"Please don't give me that 'Captain' bullshit right now." His voice spoke of anger and frustration, not all of it because of her, she knew. Test runs were meant to start in a few days' time, and Kirk had never been good at delegating when it came to his ship. He gripped his cup of coffee but left it on the table. Grasping at straws, in a way. Nyota tilted her head at the hand fisted around the white handle. "You aren't staying here. I don't care about whatever's going on between you and Spock."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "That's not exactly any of your business."

"Then stop making it my business. Make up or break up. At this point, I don't care, but don't stay here because of him. He's my First Officer, but I need you just as much. I've lost too many people before now to just let you leave." Kirk had started to get sentimental. Never a good sign when he lost the near constant twinkle in his eyes and replaced it with a warm sort of sincerity.

Her tea had cooled beyond drinking, though Nyota stirred it absently. It created swirling ripples in the tepid liquid, spoon clacking against the edges. "Everyone has to move on at some point," she finally said, turning from her drink to Kirk. "I've spent my entire career on the _Enterprise_. It's gone now," because the _Enterprise-A_ didn't count right then, "and I'm ready for a change of pace."

"Wait another two years," he demanded, hand tightening even further on his mug.

"I can't."

Pleading took the place of ire. "Why? Why not, Uhura? If it's not Spock, then what is it? Me? Have I done something? Someone else on the ship? I just don't understand."

"You don't have to. That's not your job," she tried to explain gently.

"As your friend, of course it's my job." Kirk had planted his feet in the ground, and Nyota was not sure that she would be able to uproot him.

She sighed. "I'm not asking my friend to sign the assignment transfer." Nyota paused to drive the message home. "I'm asking my Captain." He still did not look convinced. "If you can't, then I'll ask Admiral Williams to sign it for you." Even captains of starships answered to someone, and Kirk hated Admiral Williams with the same passion that Admiral Williams hated Kirk. All Nyota would have to mention was that Kirk didn't want her to go, and Williams would sign her request in a heartbeat.

"Are you serious?" Incredulity in every bit of him, in the way his hand gestured to his chest, the widening of his eyes, the raising of pitch. "You'd go over my head like that? To _him_? Uhura, do you know how pleased he'd be to get one over on me?"

"I do. I don't want to have do it, and I wouldn't need to if you would just listen to what I'm asking you." Nyota finally reached her breaking point. "You've already made Captain, okay? You get offers to join the Admiralty all the time. Command hates you, but they'll bend over backwards to appease you because you're their shiny example of everything an officer can become. You are in a position to make things happen. I'm not, and maybe everyone else in the senior staff is content to stay where they are, but I didn't join to retire a Lieutenant."

Concern pulled his eyebrows down. "So I'll promote you."

"I don't want a pity promotion," she told him, sitting back in her chair. Nyota worked hard for what she had received. It was almost insulting to hear Kirk offer what he had. No, in fact it just was insulting, no almost about it.

"It wouldn't be. You've certainly earned it."

"It's not about a new set of stripes," Nyota argued. "It's about going somewhere new."

Anger returned. "That's what we do everyday on the _Enterprise_. Yorktown is a starbase. Where the hell exactly would you be going? To the other side of a communications array?"

"My specialty is xeno-linguistics, in case you'd forgotten, and there's a new planet in that nebula with so many different species still stranded there. I could get the chance to facilitate new relationships with people who typically don't trust us … Our crew is nearly ninety percent Human."

"We're accepting a hundred new members onto the ship. I'll give preference to non-Human species."

"That's not allowed."

He looked at her as though she were a small child who needed something explained very slowly. "Allowed? No, never heard of it."

She hadn't thought it would be this hard, but she started to become so frustrated that unwanted tears sprang up in the corner of her right eye. From sheer force of will, Nyota did not allow them to fall. "I don't want to fight with you, so just let me do this."

"I can't," he repeated her own words back to her.

"Why not?" she returned. They were going in circles.

"Because it's just too much right now." Kirk furiously ran his hands through his hair, musing the neatly combed hairstyle he'd taken to lately. "I've got over a dozen MIA crew members who's families want information that I don't have. I've got a new ship that needs twenty percent more people to run. I've got Giotto leaving for some other trash ship with a trashy stupid Captain, so I have to find a new Chief of Security. I've got Scotty who refuses to pick a new Assistant Chief, and Keenser who refuses to take the job when I offer it behind Scotty's back. Bones won't talk to anyone except his patients. Sulu's fielding off a request to become First Officer of a science vessel that focuses on plant life, and Spock is starting to become mopey, Uhura. He's mopey. Do you know what a mopey half-Vulcan is like?" Yes, she did. " _It's insufferable_. He acts upset, but refuses to acknowledge he even has emotions in the first place. Chekov is the only adult company I can stand right now, and he's twelve, so that shouldn't even be possible."

Without any way to intelligently retort, Nyota merely muttered, "Chekov's turning twenty-two soon." She was pretty sure anyway. Or was it twenty-three?

"Lies," Jim said back in monotone. He leaned forward in his seat. "I can't afford not to have you here with me. Who would be the Bridge's Comm officer?"

"Longo."

"He's not you."

Nyota smiled. "He's the next best thing." She had trained him personally. He would be a perfect substitute, and Kirk knew that.

"I don't want," he emphasized each syllable as he spoke, "the next best thing."

"That's sweet." A dash of sarcasm to lighten the mood. It didn't work.

"I won't sign this," he said once more, motioning towards the device lying on the table between their drinks.

She gave him a searching look. His arms crossed once more, eyes trying to match hers. "I hate going to Williams, but you aren't giving me a choice."

"There's always a choice."

The way he said that, a melancholy to his voice, made Nyota think he meant something more.

"And you wouldn't leave?" she asked after a quiet moment. "The _Enterprise_ comes first for you, always?"

"Yes."

"And you think that's right?" Nyota leaned forward herself. "You're so ready to fly off again without waiting to clean up the mess you left behind. There's things that need to be dealt with, you know. People that are still there. Our ship. Our crew." Everything. Or near enough to it that it still hurt.

Kirk never backed down, so he leaned forward with her and met her head on. "I know exactly what's on that planet. The ship's destroyed, the missing crew likely dead, including a corpse down there that's killing Bones, and the sooner I get him away from that, the better." Nyota started at the change in subject.

"She could be alive."

He snorted, nodding his head once with an ironic shrug. "Go ask Spock for the likelihood of that. Bones sure did, and since 'Vulcans don't lie' … " Kirk trailed off. "He keeps hoping for something he knows isn't true. He needs to leave here, or he's never going to get it into his head that she's really gone."

"If I stay," Nyota seized the opportunity of this new angle, "if there's anything I can do to help, the way the _Enterprise_ crew would've wanted, the way Waters might have wanted, then that's what I can do. But only if I stay." Nyota saw that it might be enough, so she added one more thing to tip the scales in her favor.

"Jim." His eyes locked with hers. "Please." They softened.

 _Say yes_ , she willed him with everything she had.

He turned his eyes down to the PADD. While he considered her argument, Nyota took the time to appreciate her surroundings. Through the glass doors to her left, the cafe buzzed with activity, tending to officers and civilians alike. Other groups of people sat outside in the mid-morning sun, tables topped with cool green umbrella's and lined with the conversation of the latest news. To her right lay the rest of Yorktown. They were three stories up, so she had a nice view of the nearby botanical gardens and rows of strangely situated glossy buildings. She spotted the hospital in the northeast, nearly horizontal from her perspective, an emergency vehicle zooming down to it. A faint siren sound carried through to her.

"Temporary."

Nyota dragged her eyes away from the scene. "Hmm?"

With a quick movement, Kirk swiped up her PADD from the smooth black tabletop and started to tap his fingers rapidly on the screen. His knee came up to cross over his knee. "Temporary assignment change. How long do you want?"

"That's not what I -"

"Too bad," Kirk smiled an irritating display of superiority. "This is the best you'll get, 'cause I'll tell you, Uhura, if you try and go to that bastard Williams, you'll both regret it." His tone was joking, but his eyes were not. Fine, she decided. For now, it would be a lost cause. Renegotiation could come later, when the separation had become the norm.

Nyota could play Kirk's game.

"Year and a half."

"Three months."

She scoffed. "Twelve."

"Five."

"Ten."

"Seven."

"Nine. That's it. Nine months. I won't come back any sooner."

As though nine was what he had wanted all along, Kirk laughed in victory and tossed the device into her hands. "Nine it is then. You'll go on the first test run for the new ship."

"No."

"You will. Consider it an order," he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his hands behind his head. _No Captain bullshit_ until he wasn't getting what he wanted. Nyota felt the strong urge to tip his chair over onto the floor. "You'll need to know something about the ship for when you come back. Can't have you looking like a Cadet in nine months time."

She frowned. "I think I'll manage."

"It's just a test run."

"If it's 'just a test run', then any communications officer will do."

"Maybe I just like your company."

She glared at him. "Was it Spock you said that was being insufferable? I think the term more aptly applies to yourself."

"I know you're smart, but could you please stop using such big words? It hurts my little captain's brain." Kirk pouted.

"I wish I could've recorded what you just said," Nyota muttered just loud enough for him to hear. "McCoy would've loved to listen to you say that. On a loop."

The pout morphed into a tight smile, and Kirk rested his arms back on the table. "He already knows I'm an idiot. Me admitting it would have no effect on that opinion."

"Might make him feel better," Nyota suggested.

"If only."

In a fit of fondness, Nyota reached over and placed a hand on Jim's. "Is it really that bad? Should I talk to him?"

"Trust me," Jim said with no small amount of bitterness, "it'll be a one-sided conversation. You might have better luck with _Keenser._ And Scotty," He exhaled something deep from his lungs, "he keeps talking about DeSalle, you remember the old Assistant Chief before Waters? Scotty thinks he's cursed, gets people killed."

"That's ridiculous," Nyota sighed. Oh, Scotty. "How about Jaylah? Surely she's cheering him up."

"She helps, but Jay'll be gone by next week to Earth, and then what? Scotty refuses to work with me on this. One minute, he's talking about getting rid of the position entirely, the next he's convinced Waters will come back out of nowhere and just start working like nothing's happened. Either way, I'm going to have to be an asshole and assign someone myself."

She squeezed her fingers around his hand. "It's Scotty. You know he adores you. You'll make it up to him somehow."

"I shouldn't have to," Kirk mumbled. She could see now why he might get so defensive about her leaving. But she had to do something for herself for a change. "Why'd it have to be Waters?" he asked to no one in particular. "Why'd she have to go and do this? Leave me to pick up the pieces. It's not right." Nyota wondered if Kirk wasn't hurting as well. It felt like her conversation with Carol on repeat. "She should be here. She said," Kirk swallowed and cut off. Nyota's chest hurt with sympathy.

"You never know. She could turn up, even though I know," Nyota put a hand up to pause his interruption, "that Spock gave you all some numbers, but Spock gets things wrong sometimes, just like the rest of us."

Kirk shrugged her off and changed the subject. "So, how are you two?" Nyota moved back into her chair, hands resting in her lap.

"You sound like a thirteen year old."

"That's Chekov."

"I thought he was twelve?"

"Chekov is anywhere from the ages of fetus to seventeen, depending on my mood. And stop avoiding the question." She said nothing. "Spock says you won't get back together with him for illogical reasons." At seeing her expression, Kirk chuckled. "What can I say? Chess makes him susceptible to questioning. Don't tell him that, by the way. It only works because he doesn't know."

Nyota doubted very much that Spock didn't know. Spock had the habit of letting people, especially the crew, think he was oblivious to their intentions.

Her mind fondly lingered on a memory in which Spock came to her quarters in the first week after Vulcan had been destroyed, asking about what being raised in a barn meant precisely in relation to one's ability to eat with utensils. According to Spock, McCoy had thrown out the phrase when Kirk had started to rearrange the green beans on his plate with his fingers. Spock had spent the rest of the evening with his eyes glued to the computer database, researching the etymology of a variety of Earth-based insults and swears. It had been a welcome distraction from the loss of his planet and his mother, and it had been a simple way to spend time together without there being pressure on either of them to speak much about anything serious.

She missed him.

He thought other things were more important, and now she agreed. They would hold each other back.

It didn't matter. She still missed him somewhere in her bones. The pain of it made her heart throb.

"You look a million light years away," Kirk said.

Nyota glanced up from where her gaze had been fixed on the table. "I was thinking about home."

"How was your trip? I forgot to ask. And Carol, David?" His eyes brightened, his body leaned in.

Smiling a bit at his enthusiasm, Nyota said, "They're doing good. David's gotten so big. It's only been a few months, and when I saw him, I knew he wasn't going to be a newborn anymore, but still, it was amazing. And he talks and talks, and he's got a knack for trouble that matches your own." Kirk perked up at her words, so she proceeded to tell him each and every detail about his son, how Carol had looked, her new research, if the apartment was fine and did her mother show up and did Nyota know that Mrs. Marcus was a witch in disguise (or so Kirk claimed)? She told him a little about Makena, and then about how she was going to be an aunt. The conversation lightened considerably from its tense beginnings. As the morning bled into noon, Kirk noted the time with a mumbled swear.

"I should get going. I'm supposed to meet Sulu in the ship's greenhouses. Man's got more complaints than anything. Baby Sulu's coming with us, too. She's taken to calling me Captain Smirk, which I think was deliberate programming by the Adult Sulu," Jim claimed as they stood, leaving both drinks unfinished and cold.

Nyota laughed, holding the door open for Kirk. "It's what he and Scotty call you when they're drunk and you aren't there. McCoy's a big fan of it."

He gaped. "Traitors. When do they get drunk without me?"

"Not everyone is a chess aficionado," Nyota hinted.

"Double traitors. Chess is an amazing game." They made their way through a new throng of customers and elected for the stairs instead of the crowded turbolift. The stairwell echoed with their conversation and the slapping of their shoes against the ground.

"Even Spock knows when to call it quits," she teased. " _Even Chekov_ says no to a game now and again."

"Spock cheats, and Chekov lets me win. It's a good game."

"Does he let you win at the fetal stage or when he's seventeen?"

Upon reaching the first floor, Kirk bumped her shoulder, and when he spoke, she knew they weren't talking about Chekov. "Don't wait to tell him." She couldn't help but stop short. Kirk stopped as well. "How long have I known you?" he continued in a leading question.

"Too long," Nyota answered, starting up her walk again with a swifter pace. The lobby seemed to stretch for miles. She considered the smooth, shiny flooring under her feet with a far too telling focus.

"Spock's going to be okay, Uhura. Don't worry about him."

But she wasn't. Nyota simply was not going to be okay. "It's just that," she whispered, "he's so lonely."

She was so lonely.

"Maybe Vulcan's gone," he said, "but we're not. The _Enterprise_ will always be here." He paused as he opened the door. Once outside, he looked right at her and placed a warm hand on her shoulder. "For both of you, it will always be here." Jim Kirk could be very sweet when he wanted to be, so Nyota hugged him close. He smelled like soap, and he felt like a part of her home.

"McCoy's going to be okay, too, you know. And Scotty and Keenser," Nyota assured. "They'll get through this. We always do."

Kirk whispered from above her head. "But she'll still be gone. And it will still be my fault." Nyota wondered if he was talking about Waters, or something bigger like the ship, or the rest of the crew, or something else entirely. She knew from many years of experience that trying to convince Kirk of something he was dead set against was damn near impossible, so instead of saying anything, she just tugged him a little closer. Could she have guessed back in Iowa how this would have turned out? Eight years since then, and oh, how things had changed. She had been just an auburn uniform, a degree, a number, and a whole lot of ambition.

Had the mission washed part of that away? Nyota didn't know yet.

"I'll see you later," Nyota said as they separated.

Kirk put on a Captain Smirk kind of smile, and walking backwards down the sidewalk said, "Don't forget about that test run!"

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and the like, I really appreciate it! Sorry this part's somewhat shorter than the others, but I couldn't find a more natural stopping point without making it way too long. Hopefully the next update will be Saturday, so I wish you all a good end to your week!


	6. Chapter 6

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **Act II**

 **Part 2**

McCoy looked ill and very much like he'd rather be anywhere else. Nyota might suggest a hospital. He would probably take that advice as a way to work himself into an early grave.

The senior staff sat together in a now bustling mess hall filled with groups of officers on their first break from duty. This particular mess hall was located on Deck 2, the closest to the Bridge, and looked nearly identical to the old one. The floor was still gray and smooth, easy for cleaning. Even the groupings of long, rectangular tables were the same shade of cobalt blue. The only noticeable difference had been in the food quality. Nyota very much appreciated whichever ship designer had mandated an overhaul of the replicators.

If there was one thing she would not miss about the Enterprise without the A, it was the god awful foodstuffs they were forced to eat. Scotty mumbled some explanation about it when she'd asked, but beyond that, the Chief simply pushed the noodles around his plate and stayed silent and morose. Keenser, as usual, said not a word.

Chekov and Kirk were currently doing their very best to fill the depressive void. "But if they were to add a foot rest into the chairs," Chekov argued, "then I think work efficiency would increase exponentially."

"Right, but they would have to add it to mine first, and then a few models down the line, they might add it to the rest of the Bridge," Kirk grinned.

Shaking his head dramatically, Chekov placed his hand on the table. "I do not see why the captain's chair would come first. All the captain does is sit and tell other people what to do. The rest of us do real work." Nyota coughed herself into a laugh, and from the spot beside her, Sulu patted her back. She shot him a grateful smile.

"Real funny," Kirk said as he glared at them all. He nudged Spock with his shoulder. "Spock, you think I do real work, right?"

Spock, who had remained silent the entire time, shifted in his seat. Nyota tried hard not to look at him directly, and hadn't that just been the theme of her entire morning on the Bridge? "Before responding, I would like to have defined for me the phrase 'real work'."

Kirk sighed a fake noise of frustration. "Apparently one of the qualifications is not being a captain."

"Then I suppose you have answered your own question, Captain." A glaring battle ensued, which as expected, Kirk lost.

"Bones, buddy, what're you up to over there?" Kirk asked as he ignored Spock, directing Nyota's gaze back to McCoy. He had taken to huddling over a PADD, muttering to himself. It was like he hadn't even heard Kirk speak. That, in and of itself, wasn't abnormal behavior for their doctor, but it was the most Nyota had seen him act like himself in recent days. Abnormality in a return to the normal. Strange. "Bones."

He shot them all a typically grumpy look. "Shuddup, Jim. Jesus Christ."

In return, Kirk smiled something Nyota hadn't seen in a while. "What're you doing? Bones. Bones. What're you doing?" He reached across Spock, who looked affronted, and started to poke McCoy's cheek in time with the repetition of his nickname in monotone. "Bones. Bones. Bones."

"Fine! Since you're so damn interested." McCoy nearly shoved the PADD in Kirk's face, which fell when he looked at the screen.

"Just … work? Request for more medical supplies," Kirk read, eyes glazing over.

"Yep."

"Oh. Didn't M'Benga used to do these?" Everyone, even Spock, stiffened a little. Nyota flinched at the bad timing. McCoy snatched the padd from under Kirk's nose and set it back on the table with a loud clang. Nyota was surprised it didn't break from the sheer force of it.

McCoy stared at the padd as though it were responsible for all the atrocities of the universe.

"Yeah. Too bad he's fucking dead. We'll all be with him soon enough, don't know why I bother with these stupid, goddamned forms." McCoy, it seemed to Nyota, was not back to his old self at all. It had been a trick of the light maybe, or a hope for something to be the way it used to. She watched as Kirk's eyes narrowed at him in displeasure.

"Maybe you should sit the rest of the test out."

"Whatever, Jim." McCoy swung his legs out from the bench and left the padd behind. "Give that to McLean if you're going to be like this."

" _I'm_ not being like -" Kirk started, pointing a hand to his own chest, but McCoy was already walking away. If he were any other captain, and if it had been anyone but McCoy, Kirk could've dressed him down in front of the entire mess hall. As it was, he let McCoy leave without another word about it. No one spoke. When Nyota looked over to Scotty, she saw him continue to poke at his food, fork scratching against the ceramic coating of his plate. She wondered if he had even noticed what had just happened.

Spock shifted in his seat. "Perhaps I should remind Dr. McCoy that he agreed to come on this mission of his own violation?" Kirk shook his head and then clapped him on the back.

"Thanks, but I think I better handle this one." As Jim left the table, padd in hand, Spock and Nyota locked eyes for a split second, and then for longer than a split second. His stare seemed to contain his question. _Nyota, I would like to resume our relationship as it was approximately two weeks prior to this date. Is this acceptable?_

Her answer she kept somewhere less visible. She looked away first.

Chekov and Sulu picked up the conversation where Kirk had left off, comparing pros and cons of the new Enterprise versus the old one. They agreed that this one was more technologically advanced, that it ran more smoothly, that the Bridge was bigger and the scanners were better, but they also agreed that the first Enterprise would always be their favorite.

Nyota agreed.

Spock did not understand the attachment to an object, even one as large as a starship. Nyota's necklace hung on her neck, and she knew he was lying to them, and also to himself. It angered her, but as she had been doing more and more these days, she kept her true feelings to herself.

When the meal had ended, everyone returned to their stations. Again, working in close proximity with Spock led to an inevitable awkwardness. It was, for the most part, ignored by both in order to focus on the numerous tasks they needed to accomplish for the first test run. On her end, ship-wide alarms, messages, and updates had to be tested, along with the universal translator. She had to oversee duty shift transitions, and while she did it, Nyota though of Vinn, the missing ensign. She assured Longo, when she handed the Bridge communications station over to him, that he was going to do just fine, even if Kirk teased him a little bit.

It was while she was walking down to the main communications relay on Deck 4 that Nyota spotted McCoy ducking into a darkened rec room. No one had any downtime to speak of, so there was no one else around. The room was unlike the old versions from the _Enterprise_. It had a pre-installed holo screen, which Scotty had to do himself in the last ship. The room included replicators, a small dining section, and just more seating in general.

When McCoy noticed that she had followed him in, he eyed her warily but said nothing. They stood a couple of yards apart. She broke the silence. "Hey, McCoy." He nodded stiffly at the greeting. "You owe me fifty credits." He wasn't expecting that, if the faltering motion of his arms as they folded was anything to go by.

"You gotta be kidding me," McCoy scoffed.

"Fifty credits are in your account that should be in mine," she claimed, walking to an armchair and sitting down in it. She crossed her legs. "Did Jim tell you I was staying at Yorktown?"

McCoy stared at her, eyes widening a bit. "No." He seemed to drag his feet as he came over and took the seat opposite hers. Shadows covered them both, but Nyota couldn't help but notice the devastated expression that lately had never been far from his features.

"It's a nine month assignment." For now. "So I'd just like to settle any debts I have before I go." Fifty credits didn't matter, but McCoy did, and a gambling debt was as good a place as any to start the conversation.

He snorted at her last statement, not buying it for a second. "Jim put you up to this?"

"No."

"Spock?"

"No."

"Uhura," McCoy sighed her name like it was a chore to speak, "whatever you wanna say, just say it. Otherwise, I'm gonna start being mean, and I've got a whole lotta respect for you. If there's anyone I don't wanna be a bastard to, it's you." McCoy didn't do subtle on a good day, and by Nyota's estimates, it'd been weeks since he had one of those.

It was understandable. The person she loved had come back to her, but the person he loved hadn't. He had saved Spock's life. She owed him honesty, if for nothing else he had done for them over the years, then for that act alone.

"I'm going to be working a lot on Altamid while I'm gone." _Altamid_ made him flinch. "If you want, I can keep an eye on the investigation, keep you updated about her." Nyota was admittedly afraid that saying Waters's name might tear at him too much. "If there's any news, you'll be the first to know. If you want, that is." She watched with great sadness as McCoy brought a shaking hand up to his face and put his knuckles over his mouth. His back arched inwards a little bit.

Defeated. No one wore it quite so well as he did.

He collected himself slowly, his words coming out as jittery as his body. "I just keep thinking -" He broke off for a moment. " - if she's out there waiting for us to come get her. If she feels abandoned because we're not coming back. Because I left her behind, and I – what if – and she said – we were going to live, there was going to be a house – and how can there be a house if she's not there and what am I supposed to do now, Uhura?"

Her heart broke at the sound of him.

"I lost M'Benga, and I lost her, and I just feel –" His face fell and his gaze narrowed and everything about him pinched up with tension. "I don't know what to do anymore," he whispered, hand moving from his face to clenching at his knee. Lonely eyes fixed on the ground. "I don't know what she wants me to do. I wish she were here to tell me what I'm supposed to do when she's gone because I don't know. She never told me. She never said. So what do I do now?"

Nyota stretched out a hand, leaning forward in her seat to try and reach him. The hand on his knee felt fragile under her own.

"Every morning I wake up, and I forget that she won't be there, and I wonder where she is for a second before it hits me that no one knows where she is. She could be dead in a ditch somewhere, and no one would know. She could be hurt or sick and nobody even knows. People don't just disappear. She's somewhere, and she's alone, or she's dead and alone, and that's always my first thought every day. Day after day. 'Take it a day at a time'," McCoy muttered, his voice becoming frustrated, "what does he know?" Nyota had a feeling she knew who the _he_ was.

"I think," Nyota supposed once he finished, "that she would want you not to fight with Jim."

The corners of his lips tugged upwards, almost a smile. "Can't seem to help myself, though, can I?"

Nyota did smile. "I don't think anyone blames you for that. In fact, we all secretly applaud it." She squeezed his knee in a comforting gesture. "I also think that Waters would want you to get some sleep and eat something and just stop worrying for an hour or two."

"How?" He still hadn't looked up.

"Think of something else."

"Like what?"

"Like how you're going to scrounge up fifty credits before I leave."

Finally, his eyes shot upwards, and even if it was faint and small and weak, his smile was real. "I know for damn sure I don't owe you a thing." She let her hand drift from his.

"About a month ago. The mess hall. You bet that Chekov would end up tripping over that ensign's engineering kit."

"That was a joke," he argued.

"A fifty credit joke?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

He shook his head. "Alright. Consider it done." Nyota was somewhat taken aback when his face lit with realization. "Wait a second, what the hell do you mean you're going to be off the ship for nine months? Doing what?"

"Yorktown's liaison officer," she answered in a clipped phrase.

"For nine months?"

"Just about." Nyota stood, and McCoy followed suit.

"Why?"

She shrugged, "Why not?"

"And Jim knows about this?"

She leaned back against the armrest. "He approved the assignment a few days ago. Though," Nyota added a bit too bitterly, "he wasn't too pleased about it."

"He throw a fit?"

"In public," she confirmed.

"Well that's Jim for you," McCoy shrugged, and Nyota hummed her agreement with crossed arms. "I do, by the way. Want news about Altamid. If it's not too much trouble." He was trying too hard to sound casual, and the way he wouldn't meet her eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Her expression softened from latent irritation towards Kirk to sympathy for McCoy. "Of course it isn't."

McCoy nodded and motioned for her to leave with him. They walked in step. "Thank you, Uhura," he said without turning his head to face her. The doors opened to allow them their exit. Their motion sensors seemed to work more quickly than their old ship's.

"Thank you," Nyota said back, causing McCoy to slow down.

"For what?"

Now it was her who couldn't meet his eye. "For saving Spock's life. He wouldn't have made it out alive if you hadn't been there. So thank you."

"Yeah, well," McCoy rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, "didn't have much a choice, did I?" But he did. Spock said McCoy had dragged to him to safety instead of abandoning him somewhere along the way, and that mattered to her.

"Either way."

A few crewmembers passed them by before McCoy responded. "Does Spock know you're staying?"

The question took her by surprise. "I don't know. Jim probably told him."

"And you didn't?" Nyota merely shook her head. "Well shit. Don't you think you should?"

Nyota stared him down. "I will."

McCoy shrugged. "Alright then."

They entered the turbolift at the far end of the hallway, and she called out for Deck 4. No other words were exchanged between the pair, and Nyota only nodded as a farewell as she left the turbolift. Back on her way to the communications relay, she found her mind swimming.

Of course Nyota would have to tell Spock. It was just that, well, she didn't really want to face the reality of it. Would Spock be angry? Sad? Or worse, would he not care? He had said he wanted to get back together, so he would care. Did she want him to be upset? That didn't even make sense. It would be easier if he wasn't, but still she wanted him to be.

She was a mess.

* * *

When they had first docked at Yorktown, the Sulus had invited them all to dinner for the second night of shore leave.

A month and a half later and the second to last night before the _Enterprise-A_ was scheduled to leave, a dinner was in fact held. Around a makeshift table with too many chairs, the Bridge crew, McCoy, Scotty and Keenser, and Ben sat. Demora had spent the first couple of hours with them and had been the absolute life of the party before being put to bed.

The chronometer approached midnight, and Nyota could say for certain that no one but Spock, Ben, and Keenser could walk in a straight line. Even she had drunk one too many glasses of wine, and the warm, heady feeling in her head warned her to keep her mouth closed in case she said something she'd regret the next day.

At the head of the table, Sulu, Kirk and Chekov were discussing the new warp core with animated gestures and slurred exclamations. Besides Kirk, Keenser arranged the peas on his plate with a fork. Scotty, opposite to Keenser, mumbled under his breath to McCoy, though she couldn't make it out over Chekov's loud gasp of , _"Ten percent less!"_

Where was Spock? Nyota glanced around the room, her vision spinning until it landed on him and Ben. They were loading all the dishes into the recycler, and Nyota felt more warmth than could be attributed to the wine at the sight of Spock being so helpful.

He wasn't hers anymore. She shouldn't take pride in his actions. Apparently Nyota had been staring too long because Spock met her eyes in the middle of speaking to Ben. She lowered her own back to the kitchen table. He wasn't hers anymore, but did he know that? Did she?

Even though she hadn't mentioned it, Nyota thought Spock had to be aware of her leaving the ship, and yet, he'd said nothing to her about it. Was he still waiting for her to answer his question? The wine made a pathetic laugh escape in a quiet sound from her lips. No one noticed.

She tucked her forehead into the tight grip of her palm and finished the rest of her wine.

Spock's voice from above made her jump. "Nyota, it is getting late. Would you like to walk back to crew quarters with me?" He noticed her reaction. "I did not mean to startle you."

It took a great deal of effort to make her tongue work properly. "It's fine. My quarters were moved a few days ago, though, so we'll be going in separate directions."

He did not make any noticeable movements. "I would not mind the exercise."

Did he want to talk? Was there something he wanted from her? Or was there no other motive than what he had already said? Nyota lamented her strange inability to read Spock that night, some combination of alcohol and uncertainty.

"Alright then. Let me say goodnight to Ben first," Nyota requested, looking around for the host. "Sulu seems to be a lost cause at the moment."

Spock stepped back to allow her room. "I agree," he said in a distasteful tone that somehow still managed to stay light. "Mr. Sulu has always become as animated in his intoxication as Mr. Scott." He shook his head at the table as they walked together into the adjoining living room. They found Ben tidying up after their brief stint in the cozy living room earlier in the night.

"Calling it a night?" he asked as he folded a throw blanket.

"Yeah. Thanks for having us. We can be a rowdy bunch," Nyota said, focusing on looking as not-drunk as possible. She'd had a little trouble walking beside Spock and not looking like a toddler who'd banged her head.

Ben put down the blanket and waved his hand. "Oh, not at all. It's been good to have the company." He stepped around the coffee table and briefly hugged her. "Ah, well. At least you'll still be around, Nyota." Nyota watched as Spock stiffened his shoulders as Ben hugged him as well. Still, he was getting better at accepting embraces from their friends.

His friends, not theirs, she corrected herself.

"Have a good night," Ben said as they approached the door.

"You, too," Nyota replied for them both. It was late spring on Yorktown's clock, so the night air comfortably blew across her exposed skin. She wondered if Spock might be chilly. Why didn't he bring a sweater? "I guess I'll lead the way." Spock nodded and allowed her to walk them both out of the civilian sector. She supposed they could take a nearby transporter, but she needed the time to sober up, and Spock wasn't complaining.

They didn't speak much, besides his comment about the station's weather controls _"A strange addition"_ , for the next fifteen minutes. While in the turbolift up to her floor, Nyota could feel Spock's restlessness. There was something in the way he shifted his weight or placed his hands that always told her.

"So," Nyota started upon arriving at her door.

Spock scrunched up his face briefly, like he was trying to pick the right words. "May I come in? There are things we should discuss."

"Can't this wait until tomorrow morning, Spock?" she sighed.

She could see him resist the urge to cross his arms, muscles tensing.

"No."

Well, that was unexpected. Nyota looked him over once with wariness before nodding. "Okay, then. I'm still settling in, so the place is a little bare," she warned while punching in the access code. Nyota walked in first, Spock a step behind. "There's not really anywhere to sit."

Without so much as a shrug, Spock sank cross legged onto the ground. "That is not necessary."

She smiled a little at the sight. It was small things like that which endeared him to her so completely, and -

And she needed to let him go, or they were both going to sink.

"What's so important that it can't wait until morning?" Nyota folded herself down and leaned against the wall by the door. Spock sat beside her and pulled something from his pocket. "What is it?" He handed over a small, rectangular frame over to her. Her fingers brushed the front screen and found the switch to project what must be some sort of holo or picture.

It was them.

Or, it was the them that could have been if Nero hadn't come through the blackhole. Kirk sat in the center of the photo, and on instinct, she sought out Spock's image next. He stood, proud and tall, to the left of the Captain. In that universe, he had a planet and a mother and a people.

She stood on the opposite end, as far from Spock as possible.

She looked different, that Nyota Uhura, and older, and there was confidence in her stance that Nyota felt she had been so lacking in lately. Did this her ever love Spock like Nyota did here? And what would she say to Nyota if she could?

Scotty had a mustache, and Chekov was middle aged, though still holding onto Sulu like always.

For the future they could never have, Nyota's heart throbbed. Her eyes drifted back to the Spock in the picture, and without meaning to, she let her thumb slide over his fixed expression. What on Earth did he have to be so stern about? "Ambassador Spock left me a number of personal items," Spock said, breaking the entrancing effect of the old-fashioned picture. "I admit to being drawn to this particular one more than the others."

"It's amazing," Nyota breathed out, eyes darting from the other Spock to this one and trying to point out the similarities and differences.

"I agree. The odds of the entire senior staff making their way to the same ship, some years earlier, accounting for the various time disparities, is statistically insignificant." Spock tried and failed to convey a detached, if curious, tone.

"I think you're missing the point," Nyota said, unwilling to give the frame back.

"Which is?"

Nyota focused on the distance between herself and Spock, in the picture and in reality. "That you will always have your family around you, no matter where you go." She dropped the frame back into Spock's hands and leaned her head back against the wall. Where had that wine buzz gone?

"But not you," Spock nearly whispered.

She tilted her head forward again. "Now? Now you want to talk about this? It's been weeks."

Spock tensed his shoulders and furrowed his eyebrows. So he was going to be stubborn. "I do not understand your reasons for staying here."

"It's a little late for this conversation," Nyota laughed lightly. "You leave two days from now, and I have a commitment here."

"You did not even think to discuss this decision with me?" His entire body tilted towards her.

"Spock, we aren't together anymore. Remember?"

His face filled with something unfamiliar. "Do you, Nyota?"

"What are you trying to imply?" She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Spock. He didn't flinch.

"I am implying nothing. All I asked was a simple question."

Nyota spoke over him. "Oh, please. Spare me that argument tonight."

"We are having a disagreement, not an argument," Spock insisted, as he did every time they broke out into fight. She scoffed. "Why did you never respond to my question? Did you forget?"

Nyota turned her gaze downward. "No."

"Then did you not think I deserved to know your decision?"

"No, of course you did."

"Then why?" She couldn't say, and his question changed. "Why do you no longer wish to be with me?"

Something curled in her belly. It sunk its claws around her insides, seizing her in a ruthless grip. Dread. Spock was going to be hurt. Nyota was going to be hurt. This had never been a part of her plans for the two of them. She remembered their first date. She remembered their first kiss. She remembered the first of only two times Spock had ever told her he loved her, and how special each had been to her. She remembered him presenting her with her necklace. She remembered a thousand fragments of a million moments with him.

She loved Spock.

Now physically only a meter apart, Nyota had never felt a greater gulf between them. _How could it have come to this_ , Nyota thought as she looked at the hurt he tried to hide.

"I'm Human, Spock."

He raised both eyebrows. "I know."

Nyota smiled, "And you are, too. Only that doesn't matter to you as much as being Vulcan."

Spock shook his head. "You simplify to the point of losing meaning."

"Do I?" Nyota asked. "Or do you not want to admit what we both have always known."

Spock's eyes became unfocused, turning to the floor. "My decision to follow the Vulcan way of life is not a new one. Logic brings me peace I do not think I could otherwise find." He looked up. "It is also, as I know you are aware, not a denial of who I am or a judgment of you in any way."

She loved Spock.

"But it is. You can tell me it isn't, but at the end of the day, it is."

"I disagree. I have never asked you to follow my own disciplines, as you have never asked the same of me. We have always been able to respect these disagreements and live our lives around them, together." He narrowed his expression. "I find your argument shallow, most likely indicating you are speaking of one thing when you mean another." Something that constantly infuriated him.

She pushed forward on that ground. "I need more than you are able to give."

"You have not required more in the five years, ten months, five days, two hours, fifteen minutes, and five, six seconds since we began our relationship in its current form." Nyota grimaced at the precision and at her coming words.

"How would you know?"

It took every bit of weakness inside herself to say those words with so much callousness. Her voice got low, her eyebrows drawn in. Her heart fell from her chest into her stomach.

"Nyota," Spock began, and his expression filled with disorientation. "I do not understand."

"Of course you don't."

"Clarify."

"You couldn't love me the way I loved you. And I pretended you did for a long time, but Spock," Nyota found it difficult to keep looking him in the eye, "I'm done pretending."

It took a long time for him to answer. His response tore her apart. "Perhaps if you were to inform me in more detail about the ways in which I am lacking, then I could -"

"You could not," she finished for him.

"You are attempting to exact a human form of revenge," Spock decided suddenly, "in response to my now abandoned decision to return to New Vulcan."

"Yes." Sort of.

"Explain," he ordered.

"No." How?

"You are being illogical."

"I'm not Vulcan," she very nearly shouted.

"I never asked you to be!" Spock very much _did_ shout.

Nyota gaped. Spock did, too. They were both taken aback. And then they were silent. The quiet stretched around them, and Nyota's dread swirled in her veins. Spock had yelled. Spock didn't yell. He didn't even raise his voice. She couldn't bear to look at him, so she stared at her feet and wished to sink through the floor.

How could it have come to this?

Finally, Spock whispered, hardly audible to her well-trained ears, "I would feel no differently towards you no matter what species you were."

"Then why'd you have to say you wanted to leave?" Nyota asked, the tears threatening to fall again as she raised her eyes. Spock's hand moved towards her, but she flinched back. "Why'd you say that to me? Why don't I matter?"

"You matter," he said.

"Then why?"

"I was confused. I received word that Ambassador Spock had grown ill. The political climate on New Vulcan was changing. I just," Spock paused, "feel, at times, that I am being pulled in two different directions, and for a moment, for just a moment, Nyota, I considered going the opposite way."

Nyota tried to blink her tears away. "After everything they did to you?"

"My personal feelings aside -"

"No," Nyota exclaimed, cutting him off. "Your personal feelings not aside. Your personal feelings do not get to be discarded at every fork in the road. I don't get to be discarded at every fucking fork in the road, Spock. You say I matter, then what did you think I was going to say when you told me?"

Spock clenched his fist. "I assumed you would be relieved."

"Relieved?" she repeated in disbelief.

"Yes, relieved. For months before my decision, you had been uninterested, unwilling to talk -"

"You were never around." Nyota shook her head. "We were busy."

"We have always been busy," Spock argued softly. "You were pulling away. I assumed that meant you would be more willing to consider other alternatives."

"Other - what does that mean, other alternatives?"

Spock shifted. "Monogamy among humans has always been a delicate matter." Nyota desperately wanted to throw something at Spock. Preferably in the face. How dare he?

"Get out."

"Why?" he genuinely looked confused. It made her angrier. She wanted to scream.

"I want you out of my room, out of my life. Get out, Spock."

"I love you," Spock said, and he said it in a way that was unique in its desperation. The first time he had said it, he had taken his time through the syllables. The second was straightforward, an assurance. This one was rushed, pleading, a question asking for an answer.

"I know," Nyota said, still buzzing with anger, "that you feel what you have said is true, but we're working with two very different conceptions of what love is."

"Whatever you believe it to be, that is what I feel for you. I love you," Spock repeated, and now he had told her four times in six years. Two in the last minute. "Nyota, if it is truly your wish to remain aboard the starbase, then I will join you." She had not expected that. "The captain could choose another first officer."

"Spock, that's -"

"Let me stay with you." Spock didn't let her object. He raised his voice slightly. "Please," a human platitude he hardly bothered with, "I made a mistake, but it is one I am unlikely to repeat. You may go where you please, you may act as you please, but allow me to be by your side while you do these things. That is all I require."

"I -"

"It is not logical," Spock interrupted once more, voice rising even further. "It is not rational. I know it is not, but I lack the ability to care, and I will follow you wherever you need to go. That is what love means to me. Is that so estranged from your own definition that you find it impossible to reconcile it with your own?"

She wanted to say no, of course it wasn't. She wanted to hold him close, to say she loved him, too. She wanted to turn the clock back six years and fall in love all over again. She wanted to take her father's father's ring from her jacket pocket and ask him to marry her and live happily ever after on the _Enterprise_ for the rest of their lives.

Not one of those things seemed possible to her. Not now.

"Spock," she almost gasped, losing part of her composure, "if I let you stay here, then you could be sure that I never loved you at all."

His hands were balled into fists at his sides. "So what would you have me do? Either way, I have lost something."

"Maybe it doesn't have to be lost forever." Nyota didn't know why she said that. Or maybe she did.

Spock looked at her as though he was peering directly into her heart. His eyes pierced every wall, every barrier she had every hoped to erect. He passed through the lies and the half-truths and the myth that made up Uhura and found what made her Nyota.

His voice held a promise. "Then I will wait." He did not give her the time to respond. In a matter of seconds, Spock had swept from the room, and Nyota was finally alone. The door sliding closed punctuated the end of six years.

She reached up to her neck, trailed her fingers down under her shirt, and closed her palm around the stone. It felt smooth and warm from her skin. Nyota pulled it out into the light and examined it closely. It was beautiful and blue and important, and it had once belonged to other people, but it was hers now and always.

With a smooth motion, Nyota's other hand unclasped the chain behind her neck. The two ends of it tumbled down into the air. The necklace rested in her palm, waiting for her decision. Feet carried Nyota to her clothing drawers, and she opened the top shelf.

She buried the necklace far away in the back where it could be lost for months in the dark.

She went and grabbed her grandfather's ring and tucked it away with the necklace.

Maybe someday she would want both again, but for today, Nyota wanted nothing to do with either.


	7. Chapter 7

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **Act II**

 **Part 3**

Nyota hugged Sulu goodbye.

"I'll miss having you around," Sulu said in a quiet voice. "Look after Ben and Demora for me, would you?" Nyota pulled back and rubbed the top of his arm. She hoped it could provide some amount of comfort.

"Of course. I'll be around so much, they'll be sick of me within the week," she assured. People rushed around them, as the _Enterprise_ was due to take off in an hour.

He smiled. "I'll see you in nine months, then?"

Nyota smiled back, and a small amount of guilt gnawed at her heart. She nodded, "Nine months." And then she added, just for good measure, "Be safe." When Chekov took Sulu's place, she repeated the phrase. He hugged her up and swung her around a bit, in typical Chekov fashion.

"What are you talking about? I am always being safe," Chekov insisted. He put her down and tugged her ponytail. "It's you we have to worry about. What are you going to do without the _Enterprise_ to come save you?" The way he said it, without any malice or ill-will, made her whole body heavy with nostalgia for the first days of the mission. He was so young then. She looked him over. He still was.

Nyota sniffed a little too dramatically. "I'll manage," she patted his cheek, and he batted it away with a grin.

"Move aside, lad. We're on a tight schedule," Scotty butted in and gave Nyota a one armed hug. The other arm was busy issuing orders into a padd. "Where in the devil is Rome?" he growled down to Keenser, who only shrugged. "We'll miss you, Uhura. How long will you be gone? A few weeks?"

Nyota leaned down to hug Keenser and wish him luck. "A little less than a year, Scotty," she reminded him and shared an exasperated look with Keenser.

"Oh," he blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but then he stopped. His eyes focused on something to the left of her shoulder. "Well there he is." Scotty pointed and narrowed his eyes at another engineer slowly approaching the ship at dock. "Wrenchy never showed up this late," he mumbled. Keenser started off towards Rome, and Scotty followed with a few more grumpy complaints.

Kirk approached them, pulling her from the sight of the engineers. "I'm holding you to those nine months, Uhura," he said as she turned to meet his embrace. "To the day. We'll swing by to pick you up."

Her cheeks twitched with the hint of a smile. "I doubt it. You'll come across an anomalous cluster of neutron stars on the way and get distracted."

"Not likely." He ended the hug with a slap to her shoulder. "I hope you find what you need here. And you better tell Captain Eilum she doesn't get you forever." His face turned sour. "I swear, the way she was talking, she made it seem like you were staying until retirement," Kirk complained.

Nyota crossed her arms. "You spoke with her?"

He mirrored her action. "Of course I did." She almost sighed. Right, of course he did.

"I'll see you later, Jim."

"Looking forward to it," Kirk smiled before twisting his head around. "Now where's Scotty run off to?" He jogged off without another word. Nyota looked for Spock for a few minutes, but didn't catch sight of him. She did, thankfully, run into Yvette, one of her communications officers. Her red hair was still loose around her shoulders, and her uniform shirt was tied sloppily around her waist. Nyota waved to catch her attention.

"Uhura," Yvette said, walking over and waving back. "How are you?"

"I'm well. Ready to get back to work?"

Yvette gave her a thumbs up. "You bet. We'll miss you, though. Longo's great, but it won't be the same without you there." Her eyes wandered over to the right. "Oh, I see that husband of mine. I'll catch you sometime, yeah? It's just a few months!" Yvette called out as she rushed away. Nyota shook her head and smiled.

Sticking her hands into the pockets of her new station uniform, Nyota meandered through the crowd of new and returning crewmembers. She said goodbyes to a few others, like the people on the other Bridge shifts and some others she knew in the Science and Security Departments. Giotto had left station a month ago for his new assignment, and it seemed strange that he too had left the ship. Nyota had forgotten to ask who the new Chief of Security was going to be, not that it mattered much to her now.

She spotted McCoy helping load something into the shuttle bay and pushed through the crowd over to him. "McCoy," she greeted. He jumped and almost dropped the console he held in his palm.

"Shit, you scared the soul out of me," he complained. Nyota thought he looked somewhat better rested than he had for the past few weeks. "You here to see us off?"

"Wouldn't want to miss this historic event," she joked. He allowed her to hug him for a brief moment. "Have you met the new doctor yet?" Nyota asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

McCoy nodded, turning back to the console. "Yeah."

"And?" Nyota wondered.

"She's alright. Served on a few starships before this. She'll take over McLean's old shifts." McCoy shrugged a little too casually, and she knew he still wasn't okay with M'Benga being gone. But then, who was? "You'll still ..." he couldn't seem to make his mouth move in the right way to finish his request. "With the news, about her?"

Nyota rested a hand on his shoulder. "The moment I find something new, you'll know." She could feel him relax.

"Thanks. We'll all be waiting here for you to come back," McCoy said, and she took a step back.

"Good luck."

He waved his console. "And you, Uhura."

Traversing once more through the crowds, Nyota decided to go watch the departure from the less busy observation decks. Most people had chosen to watch from the sidelines, but she had seen this ship up close before. She watched it be built. There was nothing there she could have missed.

As she made her way to the end of the connecting tunnel, Nyota ran into Spock.

His uniform was wrinkled on the left arm sleeve. Nyota stared at the untidiness of it. Spock followed her gaze and tugged at the spot. "Lieutenant Commander." He said her new rank in a more subdued tone than normal. They had started off as Cadet and Professor, and now, they were equals. Strange, yet it felt good, right.

Her hands clasped behind her back. "Spock."

"Enterprise is set to leave in forty-three minutes," he informed her.

"I know." She was viscerally aware of her bare neck, free from the cherished necklace he had given her long ago. She knew he noticed. The result was decidedly awkward and not in a way she could fix.

They stared at one another anywhere but in the eye. Nyota caved first, tugging him by the wrinkled sleeve over to the side in order to avoid an oncoming group of people. "I said some things that night that weren't very kind." He didn't reply, so she continued. "I'm sorry. I haven't been myself lately, and I took it out on you. It wasn't fair."

His cheek twitched. He wanted to say something but couldn't find the right phrasing. "You are confusing me," Spock stated.

"I'm confusing myself," she admitted, running a hand through her ponytail. "I just need some time apart. Some space to figure myself out. Do you understand?" She hoped one of them could.

Spock's eyes were dulled when he finally met her own. "I am trying."

As she had done before their mission at Altamid, Nyota stretched upward and kissed his cheek. His skin felt warm under her lips. "Keep Jim on the right track," she requested after she had set herself back on her soles.

Spock raised his eyebrows. "The Captain does not allow himself to be easily persuaded once his mind has been made; however, I will endeavor to ensure the crew's survival."

"And your own," she pushed.

His eyes lit up for a moment. "Perhaps." He raised his hand in the Vulcan farewell. "Good luck, Commander." She almost saw a smile on the corners of his mouth.

Tucking her hands in the pockets of her uniform, Nyota did smile. "Goodbye, Spock."

He stepped around her and walked in a steady tempo down the docking port. She watched him go until she could no longer pick him out from the crowd. Taking a moment to breathe, she leaned against the wall and watched people pass by. No more _Enterprise_ , no more Bridge, no more Spock. It was going to work out, she told herself. Everything always worked its way out in the end.

Nyota pushed off from the wall and navigated a path to the nearest turbolift. She took it up to one of the observation decks and waited to see the new ship leave the base. As she sat on a shaded bench, she received an incoming message from Ben. He asked if she would want to meet them somewhere to bid farewell to _Enterprise-A._ After she answered, he agreed to meet her.

"Hey," Ben waved about five minutes later, Demora in hand. She stared at the large windows of the deck with her mouth opened in an O shape. Nyota waved back and made room for the duo to sit. Ben lifted his daughter onto his lap and leaned back on the bench. "This is it," Ben said but his voice turned down with wistfulness.

"Back on track," Nyota agreed. Demora began to wriggle her way free of Ben's hold. "What's the hurry?"

Demora blinked up at her and grinned. "There's stars," she explained.

Feelings of the day aside, Nyota couldn't help a bit of joy at her answer. "Of course."

Ben let her down on the ground. "Where I can see you, Demi!" he called after her. "Next thing I know, it'll be her on a starship." Nyota offered a quiet laugh at that. "So, how's the new job?"

The new job involved a lot of coordination with people who never seemed to want to cooperate. It came with being called back in at odd hours for odd reasons, keeping up to date with the latest politics from all over the quadrant, and a very nosy First Officer. At the very least, Nyota still ran her own department, though she wondered if a group of four officers, herself included, could even be termed as such.

"It's different," Nyota answered, "but good."

"Good," Ben nodded. "As long as it makes you happy."

Happy?

"Yeah." The _Enterprise_ slid into view, its new design heavier, tougher than their old ship. She hoped they wouldn't need it. "There it is," Nyota pointed out, drawing Ben's attention to the sight. She watched as the vessel glided further and further away until, finally, the warp field appeared. In the next instant, it vanished.

Demora came running over, waving her hand. "Say bye, Daddy! Say bye-bye to the ship."

"Bye," Ben repeated dutifully waving his hand. Demora climbed up onto the bench between them. "Bye," he said again, slower and lower. "Bye, Hikaru."

* * *

Nyota glared at the station map.

Now, she had always been able to claim a good memory, a penchant for recognizing patterns, but Yorktown was big. Each arm that sprouted from the Central Plaza contained a little city within itself. She sighed and leaned forward in her chair. Her hand felt glued to her chin as she squinted closely at the screen. Maybe she should make flashcards?

A hand slapped down on her shoulder. She expertly swallowed down her surprise and refused to flinch.

"Nyota." Eilum, of course. Who else? Nyota spun around, causing Eilum's hand to drop, and crossed her legs. Beside Eilum, a fresh-faced Ensign hunched his shoulders. His uniform was creased on his knees, shoulders, torso, basically all over. His dark hair stuck up at the back of his head. Black spots, slightly more round than Eilum's, lined down his face and neck. Trill. "How's your first week been?"

Nyota tore her eyes from Eilum's companion and smiled politely. "Good, thank you."

"Got a feel for the place yet?" she asked, and Nyota became painfully aware of the station map on the work screen behind her. She reached back and flipped the monitor off.

"I think so," Nyota claimed as she stood.

"Leaving now?" Eilum said, waving her hand around. Only Daniela, an elderly Lieutenant specializing in diplomatic communications channels, remained, and Nyota felt a great deal of fondness as she dutifully pretended not to notice them. "You're only two hours past the end of your shift? Don't want to put in any more overtime?" Amusement tinged every word.

She bit her tongue for a moment. Eilum wasn't Kirk. Nyota couldn't just insult her and walk away. "Not today." Her eyes shifted over once more to the Ensign, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Eilum stuck a hand on his shoulder, as though to keep him from running away. He visibly trembled.

"This is Theus," Eilum finally introduced. Theus waved a hand at her. It shook. "I caught him on the way in here. He's the only other Trill working on the station, you know. He's new like you. Well when I saw him, I knew I had to introduce you both." Nyota smiled over at Theus because no matter how eccentric Eilum was, it really wasn't his fault. Besides, some sweat had started to pool on his forehead, and Nyota didn't want him to be scared of her as well.

"Uhura." Nyota stuck her hand out. Theus grabbed it and gave her a surprisingly firm grip.

"I'm an engineer," Theus said as a greeting and let go of her quickly. "I'm here to fix the uh," he shook his tool kit, "circuitry in the uh, computer station, um, three?" Eilum took pity on him and set him off to his task before rounding up Nyota as she made her way out the door.

"So, what do you think?" Eilum said as they entered the turbolift.

"Of Theus?" Eilum nodded. "He seems," Nyota searched for the right word, "young."

Eilum sighed affectionately. "Isn't he? I knew his mother, you know. We were classmates back before I was Joined." The turbolift opened, and Nyota stepped out, hoping that Eilum wouldn't follow her. Her wish was not granted. "When will I get to meet your mother?"

"Do you make a habit of meeting all the crewmembers' mothers?" Nyota huffed, a bit too sarcastically, as she tried to remember which train line to take back to crew quarters. They were nearby, on the city arm that primarily held Starfleet and educational institutions.

"If I can help it," Eilum said, and Nyota realized she was serious.

"And Commodore Paris?" Nyota wanted to look up the map, but somehow, she didn't want Eilum to think she hadn't already figured everything out.

"Prefers my accounts. Apparently," Eilum mused, "they're much more colorful than reality. I really don't agree, but then, we all make sacrifice to please our superiors, don't we? It's the other way, just so you know."

Nyota slowed her gait as they walked through the Central Plaza. "What is?"

"Your quarters. You've been pulling double shifts all week. I assume you just sleep in your off hours. In your own quarters, although forgive me if I presumed incorrectly about that last part." Eilum's pocket made a dinging noise, so Nyota was spared from having to make some excuse about going somewhere else in order not to look like a fool. Eilum tisked as she read whatever message she'd received. Frown lines appeared around her mouth. "Jacey's gotten in trouble at school. Again."

"Again?" Nyota couldn't help but ask.

Eilum looked up. "It's a phase. She keeps taking the blame for her sister. Hero complex and all that." She frowned in a thoughtful way. "Maybe she needs therapy. Or her own room." Eilum tilted her head. "Yeah, maybe that's it. Or a drink. No wait. That's me." Nyota wanted to back away slowly and leave Eilum to whatever weird form of parenting she thought necessary. Eilum shrugged, saving Nyota the trouble of having to think up an excuse. "Well, I've got to dash. Also, don't show up to duty tomorrow."

"Excuse me?" Nyota asked, even as Eilum began to walk away. She caught up to her as she typed something on her communicator.

"You have days off?" Eilum reminded her without glancing up. Nyota had to steer her around a crowd of people when Eilum tried to walk through them.

"On the _Enterprise -_ " Nyota started to say.

"We're not on the _Enterprise_. Take a break, like we all do here. There's no need for you not to. We have other liaisons and no pressing engagements."

"But-"

"It's the Red line. See you in two days, Nyota," Eilum waved with that ever present smile as she jogged ahead, leaving Nyota right near the stairs to the train station. Nyota watched the Captain's retreating figure with a shake of her head. Then, she swallowed her pride and climbed the stairs. After tapping her Starfleet credentials on the scanner, she made her way up another set of stairs and waited for the train to pull in.

Once she got back to her quarters, Nyota deposited her uniform jacket and ID on a small chair by the door. She toed off her shoes and lined them neatly in her closet. Creasing her perfectly made bed, Nyota sat down and admired her quarters. She finally finished unpacking and moving in. They were bigger than what she had on the _Enterprise_ , both in regards to her own personal quarters and the one she shared with Spock. She had space for a bed, a set of drawers, a small closet, a desk, and a loveseat with room to spare. Her mother had given her new holos, the ones that could be replaced, to put up because all of her old ones had been destroyed.

It was cozy, but it didn't feel like home. Not the way _Enterprise_ had. Not the way Spock had.

Oh, Nyota thought as she placed her head in her hands, she needed to stop thinking about him. He most certainly was not thinking about her. He had the unfair advantage of being half-Vulcan, which came with the benefits of having a mind that worked in much more efficient ways than hers. If he wanted, he could probably try to forget her existence and succeed.

What did he mean when he said he would wait for her? What did it mean when she didn't try and stop him? Why can't she just -

Her communicator buzzed on the personal line, voice only. She opened it. "Hey, Nyota."

She leaned back onto the mattress. "Ben?" She could hear a chatter of voices in the background but couldn't make any of them out.

"I'm sorry to ask this, but could you look after Demora tomorrow? I've got a meeting across the station, just came up last minute. It's kind of an all day thing," Ben explained. " If you can't, it's fine, but -"

"Of course I could," Nyota answered because, well, she'd been ordered off-duty for the next two days. So why not? Granted, Nyota hadn't ever taken care of a small child before, but she knew Demora. She was sweet. How difficult could it be to look after a four year old?

The next day, she was kicking herself for her arrogance. She wasn't sure if it was four year olds in general, or Demora in particular, but it certainly was not Nyota's best day. It had started off fine. Ben left while Demora finished her cereal and chatted about her friends at school. But somehow Nyota had been talked into taking her to the nearby park. Which led to icecream at ten in the morning because of course there was an icecream shop beside the park, and Demora's "pwease" had been way too convincing. On the way back, still feeling guilty despite Demora's far too happy grin, the icecream cone had dropped along with Demora onto the pavement.

Another icecream cone and far too many band-aids later, the pair arrived back at the Sulu house. Demora didn't finish her icecream and seemed entirely indifferent to the whole experience. Her favorite thing had become asking questions as she colored a picture of Earth.

"Why aw you old?"

Nyota tried not to be offended. "I'm older than you, but I'm not exactly old."

"Yeah, but why?" Demora asked as her sticky hands picked a new color. Europe was apparently neon purple.

"Well because I was born before you. So I've been alive longer, so I'm older."

"My dad's on a stawship," Demora informed her proudly. Struggling to see the relevance of that fact to their conversation, Nyota nodded as Demora continued. "He flies it, and he's the most impowtant pilot ever."

"He's pretty awesome," Nyota agreed.

"What does your dad do?"

"He draws pictures, just like your doing now." She pointed to the tablet in Demora's lap.

"Does he go away a lot too?"

Nyota shifted in her chair at the table. "Well, no. But my mom went away a lot for her work. She's a historian."

"What's that?" Tongue peaking out of her mouth, Demora vigorously filled in the Pacific ocean with green.

"She learns about people a long time ago."

"Why?"

"Because ... it's good to know about the past."

"Why?"

"So we know what we did wrong before, so that we can do better now."

Demora dropped the tablet onto the table. "I want to show you my toys." Grabbing Nyota's hand, Demora tugged her along with surprising strength. After lunch and Nyota's admittedly pathetic attempt at bathtime, which she was letting Ben know would never happen again, her communicator buzzed on a work frequency.

Nyota attempted to answer the call, but Demora clung to her thigh and giggled. "Demora," Nyota warned, trying to pry her off her legs, "let go. Come on." The little girl hid her face from view, but Nyota could feel the shake of her head against her leg. She nearly cursed when she saw the identification of the caller: Eilum. "Just be quiet, okay? Then we'll play," Nyota bargained, tapping the screen with her pointer finger to answer. Eilum's face appeared. Someone had painted a swirling pink design on her right cheekbone.

"Nyota," Eilum greeted from her office. Then she squinted. "What happened to your hair?" Nyota looked at her own face in the call and realized that her hairband had been snapped, and as bathtime had not gone exactly according to plan, her normally perfectly styled hair had begun to poof.

Never again.

Smoothing her horrified expression, Nyota said quite succinctly, "War."

Eilum grinned. "How fun." Demora lost interest in clinging to her and ran off into the hallway. Listening to Eilum speak, Nyota followed quickly behind Demora. "Wars aside, we've received contact from an alien species on the other side of nebula. The universal translator's working fairly well, and they appear intrigued by the Federation. Apparently, they've never heard of us." Demora tried to do a hand stand against the wall. "We've set up a meeting on Altamid in a few weeks time. Paris wants Bell to go."

"That's great," Nyota replied absently, trying to make sure Demora didn't break her neck.

"She wants you to go with him. You have a lot of first contact experience, and your work setting up communications relays in deep space would help Altamid station get up and running more quickly." Nyota nodded.

"Understood, Ca - Demora, stop cartwheeling," she pleaded.

"We'll have a debriefing the day after tomorrow." Nyota could hear the amusement in each word. "You know, I could have sworn the point of a day off was to, I don't know, relax?"

"Relax? Yes, I'm very relaxed."

"Clearly," Eilum said. "I'll see you in two days, Lieutenant."

"Captain."

Eilum ended the call, and Nyota let out a sigh of relief. Then Demora fell and burst into tears, and Nyota swore to herself she was never, ever babysitting ever again.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello, it's been awhile! The story should be updated somewhat more regularly in the coming weeks. Thanks for reading :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **Act II**

 **Part 4**

Nyota's shuttle broke apart puffy clouds as it passed into the atmosphere of Altamid.

She gazed out of the window and watched the mountains grow taller around her. Another few minutes passed, and she could see temporary headquarters set up at the bottom of a foothill. Grassless plains stretched out on one end, while the mountain towering behind it cast dark shadows upon the ground. It was so beautiful on Altamid, and so hard for her to believe the horrors that had taken place there.

The shuttle set down smoothly on the landing pad, and Nyota unbuckled herself from the safety restraints. Stretching, she let the few other passengers out before her. She paused, alone, and looked down at the floor.

A month ago, she never would have believed herself capable of returning to this place. The sight of her crewmates strung upside down and screaming flashed behind her eyelids. Ensign Syl calling her name drummed in her ears like a heartbeat. Could she still remember the look in Syl's eyes as she ran towards the glass?

Yes, she always would. But life moved on, and so now should she.

Nyota swallowed down the memories, smoothed her skirt, and stepped out of the shuttle. A crewman showed the Yorktown officers around the small facility, which he said was meant to be expanded in the coming months. Nyota dropped off her things in her quarters on the second level, but a buzzing noise at the door interrupted her as she put away her few belongings.

"Commander Uhura?" An Andorian crewman who looked around her age waited in the hall. Nyota stepped out of her room.

"Yes." She held out her hand, and the other officer shook it.

"I'm Foll," he greeted with a small smile. "I'm here to escort you to the communications center." He held his hand out, gesturing into the hallway, and she walked a step behind him as he led her into the turbolift. "I heard you recently transferred from _Enterprise_."

"I did," Nyota replied.

He pressed the button for the highest floor. "It's pretty different off a starship. How have you been finding Yorktown?" Foll asked. Nyota glanced sideways at him, thinking of a response and noting the way he wrung his hands together from nerves. Nervous of what? Her?

"Calm," she said finally when the turbolift doors opened. Keeping up a light conversation, Foll led her down another hallway where the lights flickered every so often and stopped at a door on the left. He scanned his ID and allowed Nyota to scan her own temporary one she'd received upon arriving.

"Smith!" Foll called out, drawing the attention of all five people in the communications center. It was a large, circular room. In the center, a large satellite protruded up through the ceiling. Arranged in a circle, computers connected to the pole and each of those were connected to a dozen or so work stations. A few were in use, with officers and crewmembers listening into different communications signals. Besides that, the room was a mess of spare parts, crates of what Nyota assumed were more computers, and empty food and drink containers. People working around the clock tended not to clean up after themselves, either from exhaustion or laziness or a lack of time.

An officer with an earpiece dangling from her head jogged over to them. "Hi, you must be Commander Uhura," she held out her hand, and Nyota shook it. She had an overly firm grip. "My name's Ensign Smith. Wow, it's so great to meet you." Smith had brown hair pulled back into a messy bun and circles under her eyes, but Nyota thought her smile looked genuine.

"It's nice to meet you, too." Foll said his goodbyes and left the room, leaving Smith to show her around.

It was a relatively productive day given the working conditions, and Nyota could tell that the small team of officers valued whatever advice she could give. It reminded her of the early days of the mission when she had been forced to improvise and cut corners and regulations just to send and receive basic orders to far off stations. By the time Nyota left the communications center, night had settled over Altamid.

She left the main part of the base but stayed within the gate surrounding the structure. The air nipped at her cheeks. Finding a suitable tree, Nyota sat down and settled her back against the bark. It wasn't the clearest of nights. A thick cover of clouds hid most of the stars, but right overhead, Nyota could make out one shining light. Was that Yorktown?

The air tasted fresh, and it smelled of pine trees, and it made her think of coming to the surface after being in the stale underground of Krall's caves. Of her crew upside down and screaming, and of Syl screaming, and of flying away on the _Franklin_ , and oh, how Nyota wanted to just fly away -

"Commander Uhura."

Nyota didn't jump at the voice, but she'd wanted to. Bell's expressionless face gleamed under the light of the base behind them. She started to get up, but he shook his head and instead sat on the ground a respectable distance away.

"Commander Bell," she greeted, settling back down. "How are you?"

He took a long time to answer, staring up at the clouds. "I am doing fine." Another stretch of silence passed before he spoke again. "How are you?"

"Good," she answered immediately.

"Good." Nyota tried not to stare, but he was Deltan. It was nearly impossible not to look at him. His skin was smooth, but that was no indication of his age. He could be twenty or one hundred and five. He looked at once solemn and wonderful. "Would you like to have dinner?"

"Yes," she said before mentally shaking herself. "That sounds fine."

"Fine," he agreed before getting up. His hand stretched out to help her up. Nyota grabbed it, willing her face not to heat up.

They walked together back into headquarters and down into a glass-domed cafeteria. Nyota's eyes darted around the room, seeing clumps of Starfleet jumpsuits and tired faces. Conversation buzzed in her ears, and as both she and Bell took their meals from the replicator, Nyota found herself increasingly uncomfortable with the noise.

She tried to shake off the unease as they sat across from one another at a tucked away table. Bell ate quietly, occasionally making a remark about the planet's climate or the progress of construction. In response, Nyota would nod or smile. Where before his natural charm had distracted her, her lack of control over it now grated on her frayed nerves.

"Being here is uncomfortable for you." Bell took a sip of his water as Nyota raised her eyebrows at him. Had she been so obvious?

"Forgive me," Nyota requested in embarrassment, "if I've been rude, sir."

Bell shrugged. "There is nothing to forgive. It's only that you appear distracted."

"It's been a long day." She hoped the excuse would lead to a change in subject. It didn't.

"In what way?" His eyes were unblinking as they stared at her.

She met his eyes dead on, expecting a challenge, expecting to defend herself. There was none. Her shoulders relaxed from a tension she hadn't noticed until then. "This is the first time I've been back here since _Enterprise_ crashed. It has me somewhat on edge." The admission felt good. Talking through her problems had always been therapeutic for her.

Bell nodded, his eyes turning back to his dinner. "I understand." There was a lapse in conversation again, though Nyota now attributed it to Bell's pattern of speech, not awkwardness on either of their parts. When he spoke again, his voice was less monotone than any of their previous interactions. "Tomorrow, I'm going to the site of the crash. Would it be helpful to see it, or would you rather stay here?"

She had a choice.

"I'd like to see it."

For the first time, Nyota saw Bell smile. It was a small thing, but it helped.

"Good."

* * *

Dawn had just started to peek through her window when Nyota realized sleep was not coming. Her quarters were clinical and small, and in the early morning light, Nyota paced its floor. She had been unusually nervous since dinner the night before. The ship loomed large in her mind as she had laid in bed, and after hours of tossing and turning, a stimulant seemed the only option to get through the day.

Breakfast was a protein bar from the cafeteria before boarding a shuttle with Bell and a few mechanics over to the crash site. No transporter system had been established yet, as the planet's mapping staff had run into problems that ranged from inexplicable battery drainages to pockets of groups of escaped prisoners of Krall, like Jaylah, being spotted across the three continental land masses of Altamid. They tended to either object to Starfleet presence or required rescue and relocation to their home planets and families. No native population had yet been discovered.

Despite the inconvenience, Nyota enjoyed the time the shuttle ride gave her to prepare. She promised herself that it was not such a big deal and that it wouldn't be as bad as she was making it out to be. Then the shuttle landed, and she left it a step behind Bell.

There it was.

Rocky, dusty terrain surrounded the charred remains of a forest. Broken stumps, scattered dirt, not a hint of green anywhere. The _Enterprise_ lay on top of it all, its hull ripped to shreds.

Nyota tried to picture the ship in space dock when she had seen it for the very first time. She remembered, with some amount of guilt, Gaila's excitement at being assigned the same ship, the _Farragut_. She remembered the gratifying victory at convincing Spock to change her assignment. She remembered the other cadets, all nerves and jitters, climbing into shuttle seats. The sound of the buckle snapping into place. She had been humming a song she could not now place.

The rest was a blur.

It didn't matter what was before because now it was broken. Flipped on its head, all that remained was the saucer. A makeshift shuttle yard had already been set up over a neatly cleared patch of land to the left of the Enterprise's entrails.

"Uhura?"

Nyota turned to the sound of Bell's voice and saw that he was waiting for her to catch up. Tearing her eyes from the ship, Nyota walked down and listened as Bell spoke to one of the mechanics about the project to recycle the ship's salvageable parts before a team of geologists, engineers, and terraformers would replenish the damage the Enterprise had left on Altamid's landscape.

Hearing that Starfleet was scrapping _Enterprise_ , Nyota felt equal parts infuriated and defeated. Of course there was little to save, but history had been started on that ship, and the consequences of the _Enteprise_ 's missions would be echoing in the Federation for years to come. Surely it deserved more respect than to be taken apart and melted down?

Gaining Bell's permission to observe the site on her own, Nyota walked down the open air structure and overheard conversations about the strength of structural beams and the latest news in Starfleet and an oddly themed birthday party planned for next week. It gave her time to decide that she wanted to go inside the ship one last time. Approaching a passing mechanic, Nyota asked who was in charge. She was pointed in the direction of a pair of bickering engineers at the end of her path.

"Excuse me?" Nyota interrupted. The one on the left huffed before gathering up some blueprints and storming away. The engineer left in his wake cursed under her breath and more politely asked what Nyota needed. "Could I go inside?"

The engineer shrugged, eying the Lieutenant Commander stripes on Nyota's collar. "Inspection?"

"No," Nyota answered, but the suspicion in the engineer's eyes remained. "That was my ship." Understanding replaced the suspicion, and before she knew it, a mechanic was leading Nyota down to a nearby storage area for safety gear. The mechanic, Kelly, shuffled through a large metal container before looking thoughtfully down at Nyota's feet. Then after a minute more of searching, he pulled out a pair of mag boots and placed them in Nyota's arm. They were surprisingly light.

"Check the charge on those. Don't want those to go dead when you're in there." Nyota looked at the side of each shoe, thankfully remembering some of basic training. It read at eighty five percent for each. "Good," Kelly nodded when Nyota told him. "Now, do you have a communicator?" Nyota set the boots on the ground and grabbed the communicator from her belt. Kelly turned the dial on the side, listening until a particular tone played. He handed it back. "That's tuned to our local channel. You can access Altamid HQ's channel by flipping this once," he pointed to a switch on the other side.

Nyota followed Kelly to another section of the shuttle yard where someone was getting treated for a burn to their side by an exasperated medic. Grabbing a hypo, Kelly asked permission before injecting it into Nyota's neck. "That's for radiation, and this," he said as he injected Nyota with another hypo, "is so we know where you are in case you lose your communicator or mag boots. It can come out when you're done. Now to the ship."

There was a makeshift ramp leading up to an interior hall of the _Enterprise_. He showed her how to adjust her mag boots, in case the auto-adjust failed. Then he handed her a small chip with a button on the bottom. Nyota pressed it, and the same hologram that she'd seen earlier of the ship floated in front of her.

"You're here, next to -" Kelly pointed.

"Medbay," Nyota finished absently, glancing up into the hallway.

He stared at Nyota in surprise. "Yeah. Anyways, good luck. Comm in if you need anything. Commander."

When the mechanic had gone, Nyota took a deep breath and ascended the ramp. She flipped her boots on and entered her ship. Immediately, she walked up the wall and onto the walkway so that she saw things right side up.

The crew had set up a new string of lights to guide the way. Nyota didn't know what she was doing there, or where she wanted to go, so she just followed down the hall. Medbay would have been to her right, Nyota thought, as she passed an open space. Dirt and a bit of rust covered the walls. Had it rained a lot? Still, the directory signs were readable. She turned and came across a fork at the end of the hall. One way led to a few common areas and a turbolift. The other would have led to the comm center, if it didn't end in a gaping hole halfway down.

Using the meg boots, Nyota scaled up the wall. Her perspective changed, the wall becoming the floor. She stepped up and up, passing by a mechanic who didn't look at her when she passed. Looking up and down, she could see a hypnotizing set of walkways, railings, and winding passages. It felt surreal. Less than two months ago, she'd been sailing in space right in this ship.

Nyota knew where she wanted to go.

Her boots helped drag her up near the top of the ship. With a careful step, she changed so the her feet were once again on the ground. Her head spun a bit from the change. A few deep breaths later, Nyota strode down the hallway. At the end, she saw the turbolift doors opened almost all the way. Two doors would be on either side of it, she knew. Her heart beat faster and faster in her chest. Even a small smile of hope graced her lips as her feet carried her faster down the hall. She turned to the right of the turbolift and saw -

Nothing.

Their quarters, Spock and Nyota's quarters were just -

Gone.

The ship had collapsed in on the space, which echoed down with debris and rubble. Her chest turned cold. Her stomach clenched with disbelief.

"No," she whispered, her palm resting on the button beside the door.

 _She adjusted the collar on her uniform. Sweat pricked on the back of her neck. "It's a little hot in here, don't you think?" Nyota teased, watching as Spock became aware of her presence. He had been engrossed with something at his computer, and his shoulders jumped ever so slightly at the surprise. She must have been really sneaky to have evaded his notice. Pride made her grin, but his eyes looking into hers made her smile._

 _He had such beautiful eyes._

 _"Nyota, I was unaware you would be here until later this evening."_

 _"So was I," she said, leaning down to unzip her boots. "But the department head said she didn't me."_

 _"You are the department head of communications." She glanced up at him through her eyelashes, tugging the other boot from her foot._

 _She made a pretend surprise face. "You don't say?" As she straightened her boots and set them in the small closet beside the door, Spock turned in his chair to fully face her. He had his arms crossed and looked decidedly confused._

 _Knowing it was all an act, Nyota just shook her head and let him have his small bit of fun._

 _"I find it difficult to believe that you were not aware of your own position on our ship," Spock claimed. Nyota scoffed and approached her set of drawers, opening the top one and looking for more comfortable clothing. She was not planning on leaving their quarters until her next shift tomorrow._

 _She sighed dramatically and pulled her uniform dress over her head. "Well, you know us humans, Spock. Our minds are just so cluttered and disorganized." She got dressed in the T-shirt she had stolen from her sister on their last visit to Earth. Looking for shorts, Nyota tried not to laugh as Spock answered._

 _"While I agree that humans are, generally speaking, cluttered and disorganized, I still cannot find your statement plausible in regards to your supposed forgetfulness." She slipped the shorts on, leaned one hip on the drawers, and faced Spock. He looked tired behind the playfulness._

 _"Okay, I lied," Nyota held up her hands in mock surrender. In a more serious tone, she asked, "Do you mind if I turn down the temperature a degree or two?"_

 _Spock uncrossed his arms. "I do not mind." Nyota reached to the panel above their bed and adjusted the temperature to somewhere between both of their preferred levels. Appraising the rest of the quarters, she noticed the Vulcan tapestry on the wall beside a poster from a choral performance she had been in at the Academy. The patterned rug on the floor had been a gift from her mother, and the bed sheets were a practical gray. She had let Spock pick them. There were holos on the walls, and though most of them were hers, some belonged to Spock._

 _Somewhere between what she wanted and what he wanted._

 _"Come to bed," she said, lying back and staring at the ceiling, trying to get the communications static out of her head._

 _"I am working," he replied._

 _"Bring a padd."_

 _Nyota could almost hear him debating the efficiency level of working at his computer dock as opposed to a padd on their bed. There was no question of which one was better for completing research or scheduling or writing up reports. There was no question of which one he'd rather choose if he had been alone._

 _He shut off the computer, grabbed two padds, and laid beside her on the boring, gray sheets. When she rested her head on his shoulder and started to hum, he didn't say a word._

Nyota lifted her head and hand, spun around, and was ready to sit against the wall and lose herself in memories until she saw that the captain's quarters were still intact. Across from their room, the door to Kirk's had stopped working or had fallen off, permanently open for all to see. She glanced around, debating whether or not to go inside. It wouldn't be her first time seeing them. Nyota had been many times to Kirk's quarters to sit in on chess games, give a report or two, even just to stop in and see if he was alright or if he knew where she could find Spock.

Never once had Nyota entered Kirk's quarters without permission or while he wasn't there. And yet, as she creeped forward, inch by inch, she just couldn't help herself. Was it curiosity? Homesickness? Had the sight of the ship torn to bits and her room blown out of existence driven her slightly too close to an edge? Surely it wouldn't hurt to just look around?

Nyota walked through the doorway, mag boots dragging across the floor. The computer dock sparked up once at her presence before spluttering out with a lonely buzz. Most of the furniture in crew quarters had been bolted down, so the desk, separating screen, and bed were all firmly planted, even if they tilted up around thirty degrees. Nearly everything else had been smashed, littering the wall and floor.

Maybe she could find something to bring back to Kirk.

Nothing looked worthy of salvage, but she checked through it all anyways. Approaching the desk, Nyota noticed all but one drawer opened and emptied of contents. The shut drawer was locked with a passcode, but after trying to punch in a few combinations that Kirk preferred, she realized that the lock had stopped working. The drawer was only jammed. She tugged at it hard, once, twice, and on the third time it opened. Peering inside, she saw a few smashed padds, a 3-D puzzle, and a stash of candy that practically spilled onto the floor.

Nyota stifled a laugh. What else?

Abandoning the candy and puzzle, Nyota searched the rest of the room. Mostly it just felt good to look around and know that something had survived the crash. She could feel a smile begin to form on her face from all the good memories.

And then Nyota opened the closet.

It wasn't as though Kirk hid body parts or weird holos or anything that screamed strange or scary. But as she held the light up to look around at what she thought would just be dusty uniform shirts, Nyota saw things she was sure Kirk wouldn't want her to.

Like a stash of rotten food rations in the back that could last a month at the least if they hadn't spoiled. Like a badly torn childish drawing of a starship signed Sam -with the S backwards - in 2233 that was tucked inside a boot. Like a padd that when she flicked it on just had a list of names, a few of which she recognized and the last of which made her heart hurt. _Geoffry M'Benga_. The first was _George Kirk_.

Almost immediately, Nyota's blood began to boil. What was she doing in here? She had no right. Furious at herself, Nyota threw the padd back into the depths of the closet and shut the door. Then she paused, reopened the closet door and grabbed the drawing. Smoothing it out so very gently, she stared down at the paper. What if something ever happened to Kamau or Makena? She couldn't exactly leave the elder Kirk's drawing behind. If the situations were reversed, she'd want Kirk to bring it.

He would know what she'd seen.

Yes, Nyota supposed, but then why put a lock on the candy drawer and not on the closet?

With her decision made, Nyota started to walk out but then caught sight of another drawer hanging ajar from behind the bed. Placing the picture down on the desk so that it wouldn't fall, she circled around the bed frame and crouched down to investigate. Light held aloft in her left hand, Nyota reached into the built-in compartment with her right hand and pulled something rectangular out with a bit of effort.

It was a box labeled in faded, black letters: 'Property of Jimmy Kirk'. Nyota couldn't help a smile at the childish scrawl. Maybe she shouldn't have opened it, maybe it wasn't right to, but Nyota had already crossed a few lines that day and wondered if one more really mattered.

She pulled off the lid, though it stuck stubbornly to the box it concealed. Placing the top aside, Nyota glanced inside and assessed its contents.

A pair of large, plain white socks, unworn. A small, transparent pouch filled with a million tiny shards of glass. A holo that brokenly projected a young man in a decades outdated, golden Starfleet uniform who smiled Jim Kirk's smile at the viewer. A separate holo of Carol and David in the hospital where he was born. A final holo of what Nyota thought must have been Kirk's mother, brother, and himself when Kirk was a toddler. A crimson colored feather the length of her hand. An orange speckled rock, smoothed around the edges. A salt shaker shaped like a starship. A black King chess piece that had a sizeable chip in his crown. A small piece of plain paper folded up into fourths that read in messy scrawl: 'Sorry. Leaving. Love you.' An empty brown bottle that had a peeling sticker on the front: Scotty's Finest. A miniature periwinkle flower preserved in some kind of liquid, encased in a clear test tube with a quark to top it. A bracelet braided together with strands of golden and silver thread.

Lastly, she picked out a small handbook, the bindings worn. "Diplomacy for Idiots". Nyota had presented that to him after a long string of failed diplomatic missions, long before the five year mission had even started. It had been a joke, something she'd written to pass the time and to cheer them all up. The paper alone had cost a lot more than she could afford, but it had been worth it.

Spock had helped a lot.

Feeling too much, Nyota flipped to a random page. _Rule 34: Never look anyone in the eye, unless that species views eye-contact as a sign of respect. And then do. But if not, don't. How will you know? You won't. Preferred course of action: keep eyes closed at all times. This will, of course, lead to other problems. In the best case scenario, **stay on the ship**_. All the rules she had written ended with the suggestion that he just stay on the ship.

And Kirk had kept it, all this time.

Sentimental idiot, Nyota thought. McCoy had always been right about him. What a fool Jim Kirk was.

She didn't know when she had started to cry. A tear dripped off her chin and onto the page, smudging the ink. Closing the book caused some dust to waft up into her nose, and she sneezed. Rubbing her nose with elbow, Nyota put the book back inside the box and covered it with the lid. Wiped her tears. Tugged the box into her lap.

She knew the reason she had come into Kirk's quarters.

Because she missed him. And she missed Spock. Missed Sulu and Chekov and Scotty and Keenser and McCoy. She missed Longo and Vinn and Yvette and Giotto. Hell, she'd give anything to see Waters, even if she was just a forgotten ghost somewhere outside. Anything. Anyone from their ship. Her family when family was far gone on a blue planet a galaxy away.

But wasn't this what she wanted? To be on her own?

Yes, and already Nyota was becoming accustomed to her new norm. So she took one last take of Kirk's quarters and made sure her face was dry. As she left, the sight of her and Spock's quarters in pieces left her wondering. Was he was pleased to turn the temperature up without her complaints? Did he enjoy the solitude in his free time, able to meditate and sleep on his own schedule? Or would he even be alone?

* * *

A group of unfamiliar aliens stood at the entrance of the cave.

Bell and Nyota exchanged one last nod. They carried no phasers, no tricorders, only communicators in order to contact HQ if necessary. Those were the terms agreed on by both Starfleet and the Ghozgada, the species that had made contact with Yorktown after Krall left Altamid. They were humanoid, bipedal, and very much like other Federation species. Observing them now, Nyota found that they were all at least as tall as Bell. Their skin was an almost translucent array of purples. They had flat noses and smaller mouths than most humanoids. To Nyota's wonder, their eye color changed constantly. She wanted to sit and stare for hours into their eyes, just to see if she could name every shade, every variation.

"Hello," Bell spoke first as he and Nyota stopped about two yards from the Ghozgada. They wore a uniform that was not dissimilar in style to the practical jumpsuits Starfleet stations employed, although the colors of the material were considerably more vibrant.

One of the aliens stepped forward and addressed Bell. "Hello. I am Li Leisel of the planet Gorad. Behind me is Hi Jada, Hi Valrad, and Ki Loran." Leisel stuck out their hand, which like both Bell's and Nyota's had five fingers. Unlike theirs, all but one were the same length. "I have been informed that Federation greet with a shake of hands."

Nodding, Bell clasped his hand with Leisel's. "You're correct. I'm Commander Noman Bell of the planet Delta IV, a member of the United Federation of Planets. This is my colleague, Lieutenant Commander Uhura." Bell nodded to Nyota, and then Nyota shook hands with Leisel as Bell had.

"Nyota Uhura from the planet Earth, another Federation world." She matched the grip of Leisel and decided to keep eye contact as opposed to looking away. Over the course of many first contacts, Nyota had gained an instinct for what was acceptable body language and what was considered offensive. Trusting those instincts, she added in a small smile as she said, "The Federation is always happy to make a new friend."

Leisel quirked their lips in return. "Gorad feels likewise." Looking around pointedly at the terrain, Leisel added, "It is especially cause for celebration in this time, as the creature who ruled on this planet is now gone from our plane of existence."

"You knew of Krall?" Bell asked. Leisel nodded.

"Ghozgada once considered this planet holy ground, a place of the gods. It has been many centuries since this belief was abandoned by our society, and yet when the creature you call Krall came to Altamid and desecrated the drones left behind by the _khalada_ , it angered many of our people. We could do nothing without destroying the drones, and such an action is taboo. For a century, we have waited for Krall to perish."

Nyota had many questions for Leisel, but Bell spoke first. "Who are the khalada?" His voice stumbled over the word.

"They are the ones who came from Altamid," Leisel answered.

"Why did they leave this planet?" Bell asked. Nyota watched in surprise as Bell showed unbridled curiosity. She was unused to seeing such interest from him.

Leisel shook their head. "You misunderstand. Ghozgada never knew the khalada. It is what we call those who once lived here. They left behind many signs of their society. The drones, the caves, the drawings. But if they left, they did so long before Ghozgada had taken to the stars. When we finally arrived to Altamid, we found only relics and ruins." Leisel sighed and rubbed their hands together. "They are a curious mystery to us, as they have always been."

Nyota glanced around the cave they had agreed to meet at. The entrance was dark and eerie. "Why was destroying the drones taboo?"

"All unprovoked violence is restricted," Leisel tilted their head, "and though we did not prefer Krall on Altamid, his actions were always confined to Altamid alone. Altamid was a neutral, uninhabited planet. We had no right to intervene according to our laws." Leisel considered the pair of them. "Apparently, Federation laws differ from ours."

Straightening her spine, Nyota defended against the implication. "Krall was once a Human, like me. He came from Earth on one of our earliest warp capable ships. He was our responsibility."

"Was he typical for your species?" Leisel asked.

"No." Nyota didn't even need to think about it. Krall was a murderer, a liar, a man obsessed. Humans had outgrown such men, and rightly so, Nyota decided. The universe outside of her native system was too large, too beautiful, and too unknown to accommodate the more violent tendencies her species had once commonly displayed.

Leisel nodded. "That is good to hear. Now," Leisel stepped aside and motioned at the cave's entrance, "we wished to show you something that holds great significance to Ghozgada." As Bell, Nyota, and the other Ghozgada followed Leisel into the cave, she listened to Leisel's voice echo along the cavernous walls. "This was near the site of the first landing of Ghozgada on Altamid. The Ki who landed here is said to have led a small crew into these very caves. Their name was Ki Vocala. Vocala kept contact with the ship through much of the crew's investigation. But on the third day in the caves, the ship stopped receiving communication from Vocala. A rescue team went in to find them, but after a week of careful searching, Vocala and their team were never found."

Nyota shivered as the air in the caverns turned damp and cold. They descended ever deeper into the cave, making a number of twisted turns. She kept note of them all, determined not to get lost should she need to find her own way out.

"Even today, though we now have extensive maps of many of the cave systems of Altamid, no remains that match Vocala's records have ever been found. When the Ki first went missing, some Ghozgada said it was a sign from the old gods, warning us to stay away from this planet. They were a minority at first, but many tragedies have occurred on Altamid. Many deaths. Too many, some said, to be coincidence. Our tools and machines would not work for no clear reason. Our attempts at colonization failed. Eventually, as the faith in the gods waned, even the pilgrimages to this planet stopped. Research halted, and our attention turned elsewhere. But the mystery remains."

Leisel's eyes glowed yellow in the dark, stopping in their journey and turning to face the group. "This is the last place Vocala was ever heard from. The first Ghozgada to step foot on Altamid." A bright beam shot out of some device at Leisel's hip and illuminated the cavern. Nyota thought the tool handy, and wondered if she couldn't get Bell to broker some kind of trade. But as the light filtered over the walls to her right, Nyota became distracted.

Symbols carved into the rock stretched from floor to ceiling in inticate, swirling patterns. Nyota barely made out two figures in the center with arms outstretched to its viewers. Leisel spoke near Nyota's ear, jolting her from the sight. "It draws one in, does it not?"

Nyota smiled with ease that belied her nerves. "It's fascinating. Tell me, Li Leisel, has anyone ever deciphered what this says?" Nyota reached forward and let her hands caress the carved symbols at eye level. "It's not translating for me."

"I'm afraid Ghozgada have never found a way to learn the khalada written language. Without a key to match their words to ours, there is no way to know what they have said." Leisel turned their head down. Frustration. "I admit that I feel personally drawn to this planet. I always liked a good mystery."

"A good mystery is one that can be solved. Without a key, this can't be."

Leisel looked up. "All questions have answers. All problems a solution. Only circumstances prevent us from them."

Nyota shook her head, finding herself disagreeing. "Maybe." She saw Bell engaged in conversation with the other three Ghozgada, before turning back to Leisel. "You said you had maps of the caves?"

"Yes," Leisel said. "They were made by hand, as our devices tend to malfunction when we descend too far below ground, so they are not as accurate as they could be. Does Federation want these?"

"I imagine they will interest many people," Nyota admitted, "but if you want anything in return, you need only ask."

"Friendship and knowledge, for now, is enough for Gorad. There is much we can learn from one another."

Nyota smiled, and she came to the startling realization that this was the happiest and most comfortable she'd been since the _Enterprise_ had first come to Altamid. "I agree." The tour of the caves continued for another hour before the group returned to the surface. Nyota was grateful, but she was also pleased to find herself less claustrophobic than she thought she might be. Instead, the caves had proved fascinating, the artwork and language mysterious, and the Ghozgada very hospitable. As far as first contacts go, Nyota considered this one a success.

As Bell and Nyota returned to headquarters, Bell received an incoming transmission on his communicator. He spoke in hushed tones, and Nyota did him the courtesy of turning to face the window in the shuttle and humming a new song she had heard while in Nairobi recently. When the conversation had finished, Bell tapped her knee. She looked up from the forest, confused.

"Yes, Commander?" Nyota prompted.

Bell grinned. The day was full of surprises. "Starfleet's been looking into the cave systems. Three _Enterprise_ crew members were found deep in the one nearest HQ. Alive."

 _Alive_?

"Who?" was the first word out of Nyota's mouth after she regained the ability to speak.

"They identified themselves as Petty Officer Florence, Engineering department, Ensign Covington, another from Engineering, and Ensign Power from Science Department." Nyota couldn't help but feel a small flicker of hope die as neither Vinn nor Waters's name was among the rescued. It caused a surge of guilt to rise in her gut. She should be happy that anyone was found at all. "That leaves nine more unaccounted crew from _Enterprise_. Recognize any of the names?"

All of them. She knew all the names of her crew. It had been her job.

"Yes."

Alive.

It was good news, and once again, Nyota couldn't help but match Bell's smile.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting, etc! And sorry for the sporadic updates. Hopefully the length of the chapter makes up for it. This is also the end of act 2, so get excited for some new themes and adventures, and a change in attitude from our leading character :)


	9. Chapter 9

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **ACT III**

 _To the degree that needs multiply, that affairs become complicated, that light is shed, language changes its character. It becomes more regular and less passionate. It substitutes ideas for feelings. It no longer speaks to the heart but to reason. For that very reason, accent diminishes, articulation increases. Language becomes more exact and clearer, but more prolix, duller and colder. This progression seems to me entirely natural. …_ _A pattern that we have already encountered:_ _it is need and not passion that substitutes light for heat, clarity for desire, precision for strength, ideas for sentiment, reason for heart, articulation for accent._

 **-Jaques Derrida, Of Grammatology**

 **Part 1**

The alarm pulled her from a dreamless sleep.

Nyota's eyes snapped open, and she called out for the computer to stop the buzzing. For a single moment, in the quiet hush of the morning, Nyota stared at the ceiling, and her mind was silent.

And the silence was welcoming, and then she thought of the day ahead with anticipation.

Placing her bare feet on the floor, her mind turned. She spread out the top sheet, pulling it taut. The Romulans were coming in three days. She snapped the blanket out and laid it over the bed. Kirk hadn't yet replied to her most recent message about the crew. She placed the pillows at the head. Covington was still in the hospital, even after a month. She ought to visit again this week.

In the bathroom, she turned on the sonic shower. Had it been a whole month? Time passed so quickly. Frank, another liaison on the station, needed to submit his report on the dinner procession for the second night of the Romulan visit. She stepped out of the shower and brushed her hair. The tangles pulled with every yank until finally it smoothed.

Two and a half months she had been on the station. One month since she had returned from Altamid. She pulled on underwear. Florence and Power were returning to the ship. Was it too soon? She grabbed her uniform from a hook in the closet. Placing her legs into the uniform, she pulled up the fabric to rest on her shoulders. Nine. Nine more people unaccounted for. Every message within her security clearance about Altamid, even the most tedious, passed through her work station, and none reported a change.

She zipped up her uniform. The Romulans were coming in three days, and Nyota still needed to finish her notes on the six hundred page, century old treaty between Romulus and Earth. She sectioned off her hair and tied the top with a band. Smoothing down the flyaways, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and quirked her lips into a smile. She could do this.

She would comb through every line, every word of that treaty. She would get this right.

After she took a pair of socks from her dresser and shined boots from her closet, she placed both on her feet. Then she looked around her room, seeing that everything was in its place, and headed for the door.

The train ran at all hours of the day, but at six in the morning at the end of summer, the platform was relatively clear of any life at all. Yet, that wasn't to say it was entirely quiet. The brush of the breeze, the hum of the track, the sound of her own breathing all played a familiar tune. Her most recent mornings had all started in quite the same way.

As the train pulled into the station, Nyota waited for the doors to open before entering. A pair of human men sat in the corner nearest to her, the only others in the train car, so she walked down a bit to give them privacy. When the train doors closed, they picked up a conversation that had probably trailed off earlier. At first, she couldn't make out what they were saying, which was just as well. Her mind still stuck on issues of the Romulans and of Altamid. The Romulans presented a short-term problem that would be over within the week. Altamid had implications that could last a lifetime or beyond.

But then their speech grew louder as the content of it became more fierce.

"Unbelievable, look at this article," one of the men said, an anger in his voice. "The blood of Vulcan on their hands, and Starfleet invites them here. I've got kids on this base, man. What the hell am I supposed to say to them?"

"I know," the other man agreed. She felt eyes on her uniform.

She could almost see before her the sight of Vulcan collapsing. Spock's distress, tears, anger, loneliness, and despair, and all of it silent.

So she turned and met their eyes. They both looked away, and then, she did the same.

The Romulans did not have the blood of Vulcan on their hands, as the man had said, because the one who had destroyed Vulcan came from the future. That future, which though it came with some inevitabilities, could still be partially avoided in their present, if only they could all work together. Such work would continue with the visit of the Romulan delegation, and though Nyota couldn't save Vulcan from destruction and couldn't save Spock from his grief, she could prevent another tragedy from occurring, and leave in it's place a kind of peace.

But then a stray thought crossed her mind, one that spelled out the near extermination of the Vulcans, and she remembered the shape of Nero's face, and as the men left at the next station, she fought against the feeling that their blame was not misplaced.

She knew it was, but blame always felt more enticing than the truth, and doubly so when suspicion and intrigue came with it.

Upon arriving to her department from her stop, Nyota forgot about the train ride and once again focused on the upcoming deadline. She was totally in her element. Frank had already submitted his report to her work station, and after going through it, she added it to the main one she had been compiling for Eilum and Commodore Paris. She and Daniela then continued talking through the treaty and tweaking the updated version in Romulan which would be signed at the end of the visit by the ambassador. The Federation had not had a Romulan ambassador until after the destruction of Vulcan, when the Alpha Quadrant's eyes were turned in accusation at the empire.

After all the years of work, finally a meaningful treaty on Federation-Romulan relations would be instated, and Nyota would be one of the people to help make it happen. This, she thought as she highlighted a section on mining rights in the neutral zone, this was what she joined Starfleet to do. She tried to hide a smile, as it seemed out of place, but she knew it shone through anyway. So what if it was out of place? Things were going her way, and she deserved some amount of self-pride.

"Commander Uhura, please report to Conference Room 1." Her computer dinged an alert noise as the overcomm called out the command. Leaving instructions with Daniela, Nyota left the department and entered the turbolift. She didn't know why she had been called to the conference room, but she felt no more anxious than before.

Windows lined the walls of Conference Room 1, and the mid-morning sun littered the glossy table with rainbows. Commodore Paris and Eilum sat together at the far end of the table and appeared to be struggling with the universal translator as the Romulan liaison officer Nyota had been talking with these past few weeks continued on in her native tongue.

"...assador Kovar sends his deepest apologies, of course." The sound of Nyota's boots clacking on the floor caused the attention of all three women to fall upon her. Nyota couldn't help the surge of pride she felt at seeing the relief flood both superior officers' faces as they stood. Useful, she was useful.

"Commander," Paris said, "tell me you can fix this. The translator's been malfunctioning since the start of the call."

Nyota's eyes flicked over to Eilum, who's encouraging expression caused her both irritation and a surge of confidence. "Of course, Commodore, though I'd be happy to translate between you for now. The repair program may require more than an hour." Paris agreed to let her stay in the room to translate, and so the three of them sat down to a rather impatient Romulan.

Sub-Commander T'Renn, Nyota's Romulan counterpart, had been difficult and downright suspicious of her from the start. It began with Nyota's fluency in the most common Romulan dialect, the one used in official capacities, as well as the more colloquial, common speech. T'Renn would constantly probe her knowledge of Romulan affairs, and Nyota suspected genuine curiosity, an attempt at superiority, and orders to find out just how much the Federation knew.

Simply put, T'Renn did not look happy to see her there.

"Commander," T'Renn greeted, her chin tilting up. "Your machine has broken."

Nyota smiled and clasped her hands together in her lap. "Yes. Would I be wrong in assuming the same on your end?" She knew that T'Renn could speak at least some Standard. And T'Renn knew that she knew, and it all seemed a long, silly game with no foreseeable payoff.

"Unfortunately so," T'Renn said, her tone mimicking Nyota's.

Paris interrupted their exchange. "Ask her why she called. She said there had been a change of plans before the translator went out." Nyota nodded.

"What prompted your call?"

T'Renn tilted her head ever so slightly. "As I was attempting to tell your superiors, the ambassador has fallen ill. We will have to reschedule our meeting."

The silence in Nyota's mind returned with a roar.

"What did she say?" Paris prompted, her voice strained. Impatient.

Ignoring Paris, Nyota leaned forward in her seat. "We have a renowned hospital on Yorktown, the best doctors in the Federation, surely -"

"Not possible," T'Renn countered. "Your people have little knowledge of Romulan physiology. We cannot risk the chance and neither can you."

"You are not so different from Vulcans, and we have so much medical experience to share. It could be an opportunity to share." Her heart beat in her chest as T'Renn appeared to consider her proposal

The sub-commander lowered her chin, and as she spoke, Nyota could swear she heard the smallest hint of genuine remorse. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

"We will have to decline." Nyota's beating heart sunk to the bottom of her stomach, and T'Renn somehow straightened in her seat, despite already holding a perfect posture. "On behalf of Ambassador Kovar, I wish to extend our deepest regret at missing the meeting. Another time." Rescheduling, another time, Nyota knew what that meant. Would there ever be another opportunity? Who could say?

Nyota swallowed before offering a polite half-smile. Inside, the happiness she had been cultivating for the past month began to crack. "Another time, of course. It was nice working with you, Sub-Commander." The call ended on the Romulans' side abruptly, the screen turning black. Her whole body tensed as she remembered that neither Commodore Paris nor Eilum had understood.

"Why did the call end?" Eilum asked. Nyota turned to look at Eilum's pinched brow and pitched tone. Nervous. "What did they need?"

Nyota did her best to relax under the scrutiny. How had it happened so quickly, the weeks of preparation?

"They're not coming."

A pin could drop in the conference room, and it would echo like thunder. The quiet threatened to stretch on for eternity. Paris was the first to comment. "Why?" She was too calm, and it did not help the tension Nyota had been attempting to hide.

"The sub-commander said the Ambassador has fallen ill, and that they need to return to Romulus."

Before Nyota could even finish, Eilum had jumped up with a crash and exclaimed, "He's _sick_?"

"Sit down, Captain," Paris ordered, while Nyota tried to hide her flinch from Eilum's commotion with a subtle shifting in her seat. She had never thought the captain could look so furious. Was she mad at Nyota? Was it her fault? Should she have tried harder to convince T'Renn? "Call again, Uhura." With a steady hand, Nyota did as she was told and typed in the code to connect them. The sound of ringing flooded her ears. Once, twice ...

"No answer," Nyota said, though it was only redundant, and she immediately berated herself for speaking at all.

Irritation emanated from Eilum like heat from a broken computer, and Nyota found herself too afraid to turn and look. "Again," Paris ordered, so Nyota called again, and then a third time with no answer.

"Cowards," Eilum accused. She was now pacing the floor, and Nyota wanted out. She wanted out of the conference room, out of headquarters, out of her own head. "It can't be that he was really sick. There's something else. What exactly did T'Renn say to you, Nyota?" It felt like an interrogation, so Nyota put on her best mask of professional disinterest and recounted the conversation with exact detail. Inside, she wondered why she cared so much what Eilum thought of her. Who even was she to Nyota? No one. Just another captain, in another place.

Eventually, Paris dismissed her back to her duties, to announce to her team that they no longer needed to do any work on the Romulans. All of it, come to nothing. As Nyota walked down the corridor to the turbolift, a weak laugh escaped her lips. Why did it always come down to nothing at all?

Sounds of a short laugh, typing, and the tune of a background song came from behind the door. Nyota stared it down and took a steadying breath. She smoothed her uniform and her hair and her face. Entering the department, a circular room much like the one on Altamid, Nyota cleared her throat. Another unnecessary act, as it was only the other four people who worked with her. She didn't want to disappoint them. They'd all been getting on so well, and for a while, it sort of resembled her old crew on _Enterprise_. They fell silent, and Nyota looked at them all in turn.

Daniella, Frank, Gianni, and Klaus.

"The Romulan delegation has cancelled," Nyota said, and she could see the shock on their faces as though it had been written there in bold lettering. "They're not coming." Why was she repeating herself so much today? "We need to log all of our work. It could come handy in future encounters. When you're done with that ..." Nyota stared down at the floor. It shone with polish, and she wished to sink into it. "When you're done, just go home. Take a break. In the morning, we'll have new orders."

She half expected an argument, anger like Eilum or just a joking defiance like Kirk, but they all just nodded, expressed their disappointment, and went about their work. Nyota settled down at her station, more defeated than if someone had beat her down. Someone's hand connected to her shoulder. Nyota turned. Daniella patted her a few times and smiled. Sometimes, she would remind Nyota of her father, in the shape of her smile or the quiet way she conducted herself. "It's a setback, but it's not everything, Commander." Nyota's throat swelled with emotion. She nodded.

"I know."

Daniella nodded. "See you tomorrow, ma'am." Nyota waved her goodbye, and one by one, the others left in a similar fashion until only Nyota remained. Alone at last, Nyota let her head fall into her hands and slumped her shoulders. She was slouching.

She was _slouching_ , for gods' sakes.

"Excuse me, Commander Uhura." This time, Nyota couldn't hide a flinch. She jumped up, straightening herself and tucking her hair back.

"Theus," Nyota greeted and relaxed, looking the young man down. As usual, his hair stood at all ends and his uniform creased at the knees and shoulders. His spots gleamed against his pale skin, and Nyota couldn't help but worry about him. It was all Eilum's fault for ever making him her problem in the first place. She had practically forced Theus to come into the liaison office every other day, and Nyota was helpless to stop the others from practically adopting him. "What can I do for you?"

He shifted in that nervous manner of his. "I'm supposed to look over the systems." His speech was clipped, and Nyota knew he preferred to do his work alone. Besides, she needed to go.

She smiled and nodded. "I'm sorry, I forgot you were coming in today. I was just heading out, think you can handle yourself?"

Theus nodded, but then asked, "If you don't mind my asking, Commander, where is everyone?"

 _Not here_ , Nyota wanted to say, but instead she grabbed her things and told him, "Our project's hit a brick wall. I thought we could all use a breather." Theus nodded in a solemn movement. "There's food in the fridge from Klaus," she suggested before approaching the exit. "You out to eat." Theus agreed, though she doubted he would take her up on the offer, and they exchanged goodbyes.

People passed by in a blur as Nyota made her way to the train. She couldn't seem to focus on any one thing for longer than a few seconds. Daniella was right that the Romulans' visit wasn't everything, but it had felt like it for a while, and Nyota wanted to show everyone that she could be what they all thought she was. Especially, she wanted to prove it to Eilum, who's face had paled with fury when Nyota had finally left the conference room.

She came back to herself fully as the train pulled into the station, and she decided she couldn't face her empty quarters. Covington had to be feeling lonely now that Power and Florence had left Yorktown. Familiar with the line that stopped at the hospital, Nyota switched platforms and made the most recent train with seconds to spare. There was a bakery on the street leading to the hospital, so Nyota stopped and picked up a few dozen donuts for the nursing staff before she made her way up a slight incline to the building.

When she got to Covington's room in the relatively subdued recovery ward, Nyota didn't see anyone inside, so she asked one of the nurses where he had gone. Swallowing the remnants of a chocolate glazed donut, the nurse pointed her down the hallway. "He's been walking again." Nyota nodded and ducked in a few mostly empty hallways until she found Covington struggling against the wall with a nurse supervising his progress. She allowed Nyota to take her place with a suggestion to get him should anything go wrong.

"Finally, some peace," Covington muttered as soon as the nurse was out of ear-shot.

Nyota leaned against the opposite wall and smiled, forgetting the stress of her work day. "Not likely." While they had both been on the _Enterprise_ , Nyota hadn't spoken much to Covington. An ensign in Engineering, he was twenty-five years old with a surely disposition that was more appropriate of someone three times his age, and she had known him as someone who preferred his small circle of friends within his own department than speaking to anyone else. They didn't have many opportunities to get to know one another. But now, Nyota knew his mother was a tennis player, and not a bad one at that, and his older brother ran a mechanic shop on Gaius, a Federation colony not far from Risa.

"I'm sick of this place." He gripped the wall so tightly that Nyota could see the vein in his hands popping out.

"I'm sure they're sick of you," she joked. Covington waved her off with his left hand and continued on with unsteady legs. "Have they said how much longer?"

"Within the next century," he said. As though he could feel her impatient glare, he half shrugged. "Within the week. And another week of physical therapy, and then I'm cleared for a leave." The last part took her by surprise.

"You're not going back to the ship?"

Covington shook his head, still progressing. "I'm not crazy like the others. I'd rather see my family again, seeing as how I nearly died." He was so overly nonchalant about it. She worried.

"Fair enough," she agreed, and though he never fell once all the way back to his bed, Nyota watched and followed at the opposite wall. After he agreed to rest for a while, they sat in his hospital room and watched an old two dimensional film. They turned the lights off, and Nyota drifted off a bit in the middle. Covington didn't appear to care, but she wasn't surprised. He just wanted the company, regardless of who it was or how the time was spent.

When five o'clock rolled around, Nyota left and made her way home. She ordered tea from her replicator and let it cool on the bedside table as she changed into more comfortable clothing. She threw her crumpled uniform on the floor, along with her socks and boots. The way they sat there irked her, but she couldn't find it in herself to put them away. Grabbing her mug of tea, she sat down at her computer and scrolled through her new messages. Two were on official channels, and the other two were not. Theus sent her a notification that he had completed the repair, and another, which had been sent out to all Starfleet personnel on Yorktown, was from Paris. She had informed everyone of the Romulans' cancellation.

Her parents sent a short video message which featured mostly her father doing silly things, and the other message was from Kirk. She skimmed through it.

 _Uhura,_

 _They made it back earlier today, and though of course I can't condone parties during Alpha shift, Spock and I made one of our_ regular _check-ins to the docking bay and just so happenned to be there to greet Power and Florence. There was no alcohol, at least not until Gamma (or maybe Beta, listen I drew the line at on-duty officers, okay). There may or may not have been balloons. And cake. Bones says I'm getting fat, but he's moved from devastated to pissed in the last week, and it's only to be expected._

 _Jim_

 _P.S.: Sorry, but I'm not actually getting fat right? Also, look, a holo of David! Carol's mom got his first steps!_

Opening the attached file, Nyota saw a small holo that showed what she assumed were Carol's legs and hands, along with David stumbling with one foot in front of the other. He was bouncing as he did it, and her heart melted. He reminded her a bit of Covington, the way he had to retrain his atrophied muscles, and she laughed at the thought. She didn't think Covington would share the sentiment, but it cheered her all the same.

With Kirk on her mind, Nyota's thoughts drifted towards the box filled with his things that now laid in her the closet. She should tell him about it, send it to him, but for some reason she couldn't part with it. She'd tell him in her next message, and all would be fine. She flopped down into her bed. The neatly made ensemble turned into what resembled a bird's nest of blankets. She buried herself beneath them and called out for the lights to shut off.

It had been a horrible day, so she snuggled in the warmth of her bed and stared in the blue light at the ceiling.

It wasn't even dark outside yet. She should get some work done.

Theus looked pale. Had he eaten?

Kirk's box sat in her closet now. It was wrong to keep it from him.

Eilum hated her. Nyota disappointed everyone, and she could have tried harder to convince the Romulans not to return to their planet.

Makena hadn't spoken to her since she left Earth. It hurt her feelings.

Spock. How was he?

Her mind quieted, and though she hadn't intended to, Nyota's eyelids grew heavier and heavier until finally, she fell asleep.

* * *

A/N: Hi! I'm so sorry about the lack of updates lately. Hopefully I'll put out a few more chapters soon. As always, thank you so much if you've taken the time to favorite, follow, review, or just read my story. It means a lot, especially if you've been following it for a while, as you've been so patient with me this past, well, year basically. Thanks again, and I hope you're doing well.


	10. Chapter 10

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **ACT III**

 **Part 2**

A bright blue butterfly flapped its wings once, twice, before landing on the bark of an aspen tree.

Two days ago, Nyota had gone with Ben and Demora to the butterfly garden, and she'd enjoyed their company and Demora's barrage of questions about each and every thing in sight. This time, she wanted to go alone. She'd come from the liaison office, where the only thing to do was more busy work. Eilum seemed less than willing to give them anything meaningful to do since the Romulans cancelled their visit.

The sun began to set, and Nyota stretched out on a stone bench and watched the blue butterfly. She wondered where it had come from, if it had been born here, or like her, had just somehow ended up in this place without really understanding why. Closing her eyes, she heard the sound of water from a nearby fountain and straining her ears further, she could detect a few voices. She smelled the rain just as a crack of thunder assaulted her ears. Nyota looked up, seeing that the orange of the setting sun had faded into night. It was time to head back.

Gathering her belongings and opening a red umbrella, Nyota left the garden and took the train to her quarters. The base looked different in the rain, more grey and solemn instead of pristine and exciting. Her stop was the last on the line, and when she got off, the rain poured down ever harder than before. Nyota hurried, her boots slapping through puddles.

Through the downpour, she could make out a figure on the stoop of her building. Had someone forgotten their badge? Nyota waved as she approached the entrance, but her hand fell to her side when she could make out who it was.

"Makena?" Nyota said, eyes narrowing in confusion.

Her sister stood up from her seat on the steps. She was completely drenched from the rain, and the bag beside looked to be faring no better. Nyota blinked a few times, still surprised at the sight of her.

"Well it's about time!" Makena accused, stomping her foot. She did that when she was younger, too. Nyota thought of her at three, equally as spoiled and stomping her foot all the same. "I've been waiting!"

"You have?" Nyota repeated in a hollow voice.

"Yes," Makena said, sniffling. She stepped down off the stoop, hugging herself. Her words poured out all at once "I came all the way here, to the middle of nowhere, and I even found out where you live, and I figured out the trains after getting lost about two times over, and when I get here, I couldn't get in and I couldn't call you 'cause this stupid thing won't work." She threw her commercial receiver down on her bag. "And you're not even here, so I've just been sitting. For hours! And it's raining ... on a starbase? What's that all about?"

Nyota shook her head. "It's supposed to simulate Earth conditions, to make it feel more like a planet and less like -"

"Well it's dumb," Makena decided. It was then that Nyota saw her shivering. "Can we go inside?"

"Yes, of course," Nyota walked forward and put her umbrella above them both. She picked up Makena's bag and unlocked the door with her badge. "You should have told me you were coming." Makena's teeth chattered as she responded.

"It was supposed to be a surprise."

"Well, I'm surprised," Nyota said. They took the elevator up to her floor, and once they'd gotten into her room, Makena went to take a shower and change into a pair of clean clothes. Meanwhile, Nyota took all the stuff from Makena's bag, which was soaked through, and left them out to dry. When Makena was still in the shower, Nyota messaged her mother to tell her where she was because chances were that nobody knew except Makena and herself.

Exiting the bathroom, Makena had a towel around her neck and looked considerably less miserable than before. "Hey, thanks for that." She pointed to Nyota's drying rack.

Nyota turned in her desk chair. "You're welcome." Sitting down on the bed, Makena asked for a comb, so Nyota got up and tossed her the one off her dresser. Makena began to work through the tangles in her hair, and Nyota sat back down and tried to think of the most sensitive way to ask what in the world Makena was doing there. "You're hair's grown a bit," she commented, watching as Makena yanked haphazardly at her head.

"Yeah, I kinda like it better this way. I can clip it back easier."

The room quieted, and Nyota sighed through her nose. "I thought you were still mad at me," she finally said in a small voice.

Makena grew stiff and put the comb down. "I'm not mad. I wasn't ever mad." Knowing her sister needed more time, Nyota waited for her to speak again. She spun a little in her seat, trying not to burst forward with questions. "I felt so bad after that night, and how I didn't say bye ... I just was frustrated, is all. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, honestly, Ny. I know I said mean things, but I knew - I started to think." Tears choked her voice. "What if that's the last thing I ever said to you? Because the reason you came home in the first place was because you almost practically did die, and I- I wanted to say something, write something to you to apologize, but it all looked so dumb typed out like that."

"It's okay," Nyota soothed, making her way over to the bed. She sat beside Makena and hugged her with one arm. "I know you didn't mean it." Makena sobbed into her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to cry," Makena insisted as she continued to do just that. "It's just been a shit day. It's been a lot of shit days."

Nyota laughed a little as she stroked her hair. "I know exactly what you mean." After Makena had calmed down, Nyota got them both a hot tea from the replicator and put away the comb Makena had used. "I shouldn't have said what I did about Qiang," Nyota admitted, though she was reluctant to say anything about him at all in case it brought up another argument. "I should've respected you more. You can make your own decisions, and I was being too protective." All that formality burned on her tongue, but without it, she would always harbor some regret about how she'd treated her.

But Makena shook her head. "I should've listened to you." She blew on her tea to cool it and stared down into her cup. "You were right about him," she laughed a little "everyone was right about him, except me. I couldn't see it. I can't ever see it when it comes to him, you know?" Nyota nodded. "But anyways, I'm through with him. For good."

"Why the change of heart?" Nyota asked.

Makena looked up at her, and Nyota saw a light in her eyes that she hadn't even noticed was missing. "I don't know. He just came home one day, stomping in like he does, and I looked at him. Honestly I looked at him, and I just thought, this can't be it. He can't be it. Everything." She smiled. "I'm not making any sense, I know, but it was like I had an epiphany or something. It felt like I had finally woken up and realized everything's not a dream. So I got up, packed up my things all quick, and he didn't even notice until I was walking out the door, can you believe that? But I wouldn't listen to him when he asked me to come back. That's what he always does. I just took my things and left. I didn't have anywhere to go. I couldn't go to mom and dad's. I just couldn't. So I came here instead."

It all made Nyota want to sigh and laugh at the same time. Of course it all happened in one go for Makena. Her life always moved at a different pace than the rest of them.

"Is it okay, you know, that I'm here?" Makena twisted her fingers over on the cup. Nervous.

Flicking Makena's cheek, Nyota rolled her eyes. "No, you're out on the streets. Of course it's okay. It's more than okay." She had missed her family, and she worried about Makena in particular. Trouble and her sister went hand in hand.

"You look tired," Makena said, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth before she saw the time and grinned. "It's eight already. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Glaring, Nyota snatched up a pillow and knocked Makena on the back. "Watch it."

"Make me." She stuck her tongue out.

And that was that, Nyota supposed, as she tried to tickle Makena into submission. The tension between them disappeared like a magic trick, and all the while Nyota was just thankful that she had someone around who actually liked her.

* * *

"Hey, Theus. What's up?" Klaus called from the corner of the room. Nyota glanced away from her list of computer generated translations that required human tweaking. Theus shuffled into the room, and as always, his boots were scuffed and his hair stuck up. He gave his obligatory response of technical upkeep, just as Klaus started to fix his hair and mother him. Nyota and Daniela shared an exasperated look before they both turned back to their work.

Work, of course, that required no more than the most basic level of thinking. Truth be told, Nyota was tired of it. She was at her wit's end with the translations and redirecting of communications and just the plain old sitting around and waiting. On the _Enterprise_ , she never -

But, Nyota sighed, spinning in her chair, she wasn't on the _Enterprise_.

Her computer dinged with a message. She scanned it, and the contents left her eyes wide. Speak of the devil, she thought as she re-read the name of the sender. Lt. Cmdr. Spock.

Spock? She double checked. It was him, and through personal channels, too. Should she read it?

Before she could decide, Nyota was called to Eilum's office. Well, she thought, good. She had a bone or two to pick with the captain. So they lost the Romulan delegation, so what? Eilum couldn't keep them on such a short leash forever, and Nyota was itching to do something more. She wanted another chance to prove to that she could do this.

Eilum still needed to clean her office, Nyota decided as she stepped in the cluttered room. At least all the boxes had been cleared out. Sitting in the cozy chair behind her desk, Eilum motioned wordlessly for Nyota to take a seat.

"Hello," Eilum said as Nyota smoothed out her uniform.

"Captain."

Raising a brow, Eilum leaned back in her chair. "We haven't had much chance to talk lately." Because Nyota had been _so_ busy. "I heard your sister's on the base. How long is she here for?" Where did she hear about that? Was Bell gossiping again?

"She's just visiting," Nyota said.

"That's nice. You know, you should bring her by Harry's sometime before she goes. Everyone's been wanting you to go since you got here." Eilum's husband, Harry, owned a restaurant in the downtown district of the base. A retired commander, Harry supposedly made the best Terran food this side of the solar system, and just as Eilum had claimed, Nyota didn't get out much.

"Maybe."

Eilum seemed to peer through her with those dark eyes. "You're upset with me."

Nyota almost choked on her own saliva. "What?"

Crossing her arms, Eilum shook her head. "I guess we can figure that out later. For now, I did call you in here for more than a chat." Hold on one minute, Nyota thought. What had Eilum said about being upset? Nyota wasn't upset at all. Period. "There's news from Altamid. The search and mapping teams finally made it to the southern continent. They found four more crew members." It stopped her train of thought in an instant.

She couldn't hold back, torn between relief and fear. "But I have all Altamid channels going through me, I would've heard about it," Nyota insisted.

"It went straight to me," Eilum responded, and Nyota could read between the lines. It wasn't in her security clearance. Of course it wasn't, because if Eilum couldn't trust her with a simple translator role with the Romulans, surely she might restrict her access. Nyota pressed her lips together and breathed through her nose, convincing herself that there was no reason to get worked up when she didn't know any of that for sure.

"Are they alright? Do you have names?"

If anything, Eilum's eyes became darker. "There was a complication. They found more than just your crew. There were others."

"Others?" Nyota pressed, finding herself at the edge of her seat.

"We're still receiving information, but there appears to be a small colony of humanoids living at the tip of the continent. They claim to have killed one of the crew members and stolen five of our escape pods. We found four crew, but those we did find have corroborated the aliens' story. There were originally five of them stranded together before the aliens attacked. The reason behind that attack remains unclear. Possibly a territorial claim gone wrong, or wariness after Krall's rule of the planet. We just don't know yet."

Nyota continued to breathe through her nose, trying to remain calm. "Who?" It was all she could manage.

Those damned eyes of Eilum, as though she could see everything Nyota tried to hide. She had eyes like Spock's, eyes like her father. "The one that died. They said her name was Abby. Abigail Cole. She worked in Engineering." The flood of relief that came with the lack of _Georgia Vinn_ or _Penelope Waters_ was tempered only by the massive guilt that followed. How could she feel relief at the death of another person?

How could she not?

Hot tears pricked at her eyelids as she cleared her throat. "And the rest?"

Eilum read out the names on her screen. "Lieutenant Gregory Benson, Petty Officer Gabriel de Silva, Petty Officer Tracey Petrov, Ensign Georgia Vinn." Nyota's heart nearly stopped.

"Vinn?"

"Yes," Eilum nodded.

"She's alright?" Nyota needed to be sure, so that her heart would stop beating in her ears. Was it too much to hope that they could get Georgia Vinn back in one piece?

There was kindness in her voice when Eilum said, "As far as I know."

As she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions in check, Nyota stood on shaky legs. "Good. That's good. The four of them, they'll be coming here for medical treatment?"

"Of course, they'll be on the next shuttle." Nyota continued to stand, and she tucked her hands behind her back so she could wring them together without Eilum seeing. Vinn was alright. The others in communications would want to know, especially Longo, and she ought to tell Kirk. "Nyota?" She looked up and saw Eilum watching her.

"Yes, Captain?" Nyota straightened out and stopped her hands from fidgeting.

Eilum's fingers tapped on her desk, the sounds falling into the quiet of her office. Strange, it had seemed so loud to Nyota only moments ago. "Nothing. Dismissed." In a moment, Nyota was striding down the halls and into the lift and then throwing herself into her chair. Her hands flew over the screen, and the excitement lasted until she realized what she'd have to include in the message to Kirk.

Abigail Cole died, and honestly, Nyota couldn't remember her face. The thought stopped her in her tracks, and she sat there for a while, thinking of the best way to say what she needed to. Eventually, she managed to type out a more subdued version of what she had originally intended. She sent another quick message to Longo and then went to go back to her work before she remembered Spock's message. After a minute of hesitation, she opened it.

 _Nyota,_

 _The Captain has requested that I receive all further updates relevant to the Enterprise's crew and ship on Altamid. Upon considering the recent developments in this area, I have updated the probabilities of each crew member's chances of survival based on their likely location at the time of the attack. Most have improved, but of course, more information in a timely manner will contribute to increasingly accurate predictions._

 _I hope your new work conditions are optimal for this task and others._

 _As for our work conditions, the Enterprise-A's science labs are 2.2 meters too wide. It inhibits efficiency and creates disorder in the mind. I issued a complaint to the captain, who suggested I contact the ship's designers, as I provided the correct measurement adjustments during our temporary stay at Yorktown. I have done as he said but have not yet received a response._

 _Otherwise, the new accommodations are adequate. Is the same also true for your situation?_

 _I await your response._

 _Spock_

Half-smiling, Nyota stared at the message. At work, in her bed, through the course of her days, there always remained his absence. It was as though all their time spent together had left her carved out and shaped to accommodate his presence. She could get by without it, but with each passing week, she was no longer sure she wanted to.

Glancing around at the other officers, Nyota made sure they were all engrossed in their work before turning back to her screen. She forwarded Spock the message she had sent to Kirk, and then her fingers typed out a name in her personal channels.

 _Spock_.

* * *

The following week, Nyota found Makena waiting for her as she walked out of Yorktown's hospital with Klaus. They had both gone to visit the _Enterprise_ crew who had come to the starbase for medical treatment. Nyota had finally seen for herself that Vinn was alright, and it lifted a weight from her chest she hadn't noticed she had been carrying.

"Come on, Commander. Everyone's going tonight," Klaus said, walking beside her and shooting her his best puppy-dog eyes. Nyota laughed, ready to excuse herself with any number of white lies, but then Makena caught up with them and interjected.

"Where are you guys going?" she asked, face far too innocent to be believed. Nyota sighed as Klaus told her about Harry's. Nearly every other weekend, someone invited Nyota out for drinks or a meal there, but she'd only went once with Bell and left soon after she'd arrived. It had been trivia night, and a headache had been building that whole day.

Makena joined Klaus in giving her puppy-dog eyes. "Ny, it sounds fun. Why not?"

"Because," she insisted as they stopped under an awning, "I have work to do."

A very unimpressed frown graced Makena's lips. "You're always working. Come _on_. Just for a little bit." Makena tugged on her arm and smiled, and how could Nyota say no after that? Besides, if the conspiratorial vibe that Klaus and Makena were giving off was any indication of things to come, it might be prudent for Nyota to go and make sure that everything ended up alright. "We don't have to stay out all night. Honest," Makena said.

"Okay," Nyota acquiesced, which then led to Makena dragging her home because _she couldn't go out in that horrible jumpsuit, really_ and half an hour of Makena complaining that she had nothing to wear before, finally, they had arrived outside Harry's.

"Oh, wow," Makena smiled, pointing up at the neon sign. "It's cute." Music leaked out from the open door where people lingered, drinking and talking. Linking arms, Makena and Nyota walked into the classic 22nd century design of the restaurant. It smelled like pine, beer, and good food. Making a beeline for the bar, Makena snagged them a pair of stools. "Hey, I'm going to go find your work friends. Order me a shot, I don't care what," she called out before disappearing into a small crowd by the booths.

After staring at the menu above the bar, Nyota ordered two shots of tequila for each of them. It took a minute to get the bartender's attention, but the tequila went down smooth, and the music wasn't half-bad. In fact, her foot began to tap out the beat against the metal at the bottom of the stool. Makena hadn't returned after ten minutes, so Nyota downed the other shot. She grabbed the other two and went in the direction of the booths. Eventually, she found Makena standing close with Klaus in a secluded corner.

"Hey," Nyota greeted, handing a shot to Makena and the other to Klaus. It was so busy that night that people continually bumped around them to get through.

After she drank hers, Makena swung an arm around her shoulder. "Klaus says if we get bored here, he knows a few good bars around the corner." Her cheeks were flushed, and Nyota noted a similar color on Klaus's. It couldn't be the alcohol just yet.

Excusing them to Klaus, Nyota pulled Makena out of earshot. "I can't."

"Why not? We used to go out all the time when you were in the Academy."

Nyota shook her head. "I'm not in the Academy anymore. I'm a commander." She nodded over in Klaus's direction. "And I'm his superior officer. I can't exactly go bar hopping with him."

Makena laughed. "You didn't have a problem with fraternization when you were with Spock."

Knowing it was supposed to be a joke, Nyota kept the anger that flared under wraps. "Yeah, yeah. Listen, go out with him. Have fun, you deserve it. I just can't go."

The color faded a little from Makena's cheeks. "But _we_ were supposed to hang out tonight."

Nyota waved her off. "It's fine. You go on. I'll stick around here, maybe grab something to eat."

"Okay, if you're sure?" Nyota told her that she was definitely sure, and soon enough, Nyota found herself back at the bar with another shot of tequila. She hoped Klaus wouldn't be awkward about the whole thing when they went back to work in a few days. Maybe she could scare him a bit, that might give her a kick.

"Hey, Nyota, right?"

An older man had replaced the bartender, and leaning with his elbows on the bar counter, Nyota immediately recognized him as Eilum's husband. She smiled. "Yes. Nyota Uhura. And you're Harry?"

"That's me. We met once before, didn't we? Trivia night, a lot of drunken assholes?" He held out his hand, and Nyota shook it and laughed a little.

"That sounds about right to me. How are things tonight?"

Harry shrugged, and Nyota could see a tattoo peaking out from under the left sleeve of his shirt. "Same as usual. And you?"

"I'm afraid I've been abandoned," Nyota admitted in a joking tone.

"A date?"

"My sister."

"Ouch." He offered her another shot for free, which she accepted. It maybe wasn't her brightest idea because one free shot led to a beer or two with some good conversation. Nyota learned that Harry had retired after twenty years on the same ship, had a passion for cooking, and a sympathetic ear. He had to, because after that second beer, things began to spill from her mouth that hadn't for months. Mostly about Altamid, and some about Spock. And maybe one or two things about Eilum, and that was where he seemed to be the most sympathetic.

"Where's everybody?" Nyota asked, spinning in her stool. The whole room spun with it.

"We're closing up, actually," Harry said before drinking the last dregs of his drink. She had lost count of his beers after three. Come to think of it, how many had she ... "Nyota, hey?" He waved his hands out in front of her, catching her attention. "I asked if you could call someone to help get you home."

"Not really," she answered matter-of-factly. The world tilted as Nyota got up from her stool. The jeans and top Makena had forced her to wear stuck to her legs, and she shivered. She was drunk. Oh, god, she was so drunk.

Harry was on her side of the bar before she could make sense of how he had gotten there. "Hey, easy there. What building do you live in? I can get one of the boys to help you through a transporter." She brushed him away, stumbling back into a stool. "Woah, shit. I did not - fuck, hold on. Hey, Tom, watch her for a sec would you? Nyota, just stay there, okay?"

With a sloppy attempt at a salute, Nyota watched Harry run to the back of the restaurant. She set her head down on the sticky counter and stared at the holo screen in the corner. The sound was muted, but she watched as a camera panned around a large sports field. Her eyes drifted down to her shoes. She heard chairs being stacked, and she smelled a barrage of cleaning products. Two pairs of footsteps approached, one steady, the other - not so much.

"So not only are you drunk, you got one of my officers drunk, too?" That sounded like Eilum. Nyota lifted her head and blinked a few times to steady her vision.

"Captain," Nyota said, trying to get up into a more dignified position. She managed it only barely, but in the end, Eilum had to hold the side of her arm to keep her from falling.

"It was an accident," Harry insisted. "She's a good listener, and the time passed so quickly."

Eilum sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand, and the situation was almost comical. "Of course she's a good listener, Harry, that's the whole point."

Nyota shook her head. "Captain, it's okay. I can go home by myself."

"Nyota, if I could understand a word of what you just said, I'm sure I'd agree," Eilum nodded seriously. "Tom, can you close this place up? I've got a do something about this." Nyota got the feeling that _this_ had to do with her, and the guilt and annoyance came in equal measures. "Come on, follow me." She didn't really have a choice, as Eilum kept a hand on her arm the whole way to the back of the restaurant and up some stairs. She was ordered to sit on a comfortable, green couch in a cozy living room, while Eilum herded Harry into another room. Nyota could hear muffled conversation through the walls, and a few minutes later, Eilum returned and sat on the coffee table by the couch. "You don't look so good. Are you going to puke?"

Nyota thought about it and then nodded, so Eilum directed to the bathroom where all the contents of her stomach made their way into a toilet bowl. Again, the situation would've been comical had it been happening to anyone else. At least throwing up had cleared her head slightly. Nyota cleaned up and found Eilum waiting with a glass of water. "Drink that." Nyota did. Then she had to puke again, but the second time through was worse than the first.

"Okay," Eilum said when they were back on the couch. "Now I can get you back to your quarters, or you can spend the night on the couch. What do you want to do?"

"I'm sorry," Nyota said as a reply. She struggled to keep from slurring her words.

Eilum patted her knee. "I know. You've been saying it for the past half hour." Had she? "Look, Nyota, this is mostly Harry's fault. He thinks everyone can drink at his pace, and he's a talker. You were doomed from the start, so stop apologizing and tell me where you want to sleep. Here or your quarters?"

"Can't sleep here," Nyota muttered. The puking and the water had left her more aware of her situation, and thought not sober, she wasn't drunk enough not to recognize when she'd made a huge mistake.

"Alright, then let's get you home." Eilum gave her a water bottle to drink and a jacket to borrow, and together, they went to the nearest transporter. Those cost credits, but Eilum swiped her ID before Nyota got a chance to fumble in her pockets. She also pushed the right coordinates for Nyota and followed her all the way to the door of her quarters. "You got it from here?" Nyota nodded and pushed in the code for her door, allowing the room to open. "If you're sure. Have a good night."

"Captain?" Nyota said. Eilum stopped and turned halfway into the lift. "Thank you."

She could see the smile on Eilum's face, and though Nyota was still embarrassed beyond belief, it eased the feeling somewhat. "It's no trouble. See you," Eilum waved as the doors closed, and Nyota stepped into her quarters. With all her clothes still on, smelling of Eilum's home and beer, she collapsed on her bed and fell asleep.

* * *

Another week had passed, and though things were still awkward at work, at least on Nyota's end, she managed to forget about it for the day. It was her birthday, and Makena was leaving tomorrow. Together, they walked through Central Plaza, donned in sweaters and thick socks. The wind blew at their faces, and it turned their cheeks pink.

"So, is there anything else you wanted to do?" Makena asked. They passed the same Vulcan man who came to play his harp in the plaza every week. It was as though he was playing her a birthday gift. The music sounded so sweet, especially for a Vulcan piece.

"Not particularly," Nyota shrugged and sipped her tea.

Makena bounced in front of her. "But this is a big deal. You're thirty today." Thirty years of birthdays had passed her by, and it was strange to reach another milestone. Because Makena was right. Thirty was a big deal.

"Exactly," she agreed, "and that means I'm completely boring now." When Makena frowned, Nyota bumped into her purposefully. "All I want is to spend time with you before you leave. When's your shuttle going tomorrow?"

Yawning, Makena pointed over to a bench. While they made their way to it, she answered. "At 10. Ugh, we'll have to get up early." With that, Makena dramatically sat down and flopped her head on Nyota's shoulder. "We'll need coffee. Lots and lots of coffee." It made Nyota think of Waters, on the days when she'd join the Bridge crew at meals. With eight crew members accounted for, the remaining four seemed just out of reach.

"And Mom and Dad know when you're getting in?" Nyota asked, causing Makena to roll her eyes.

"Yes, Ny. Stop worrying."

Nyota crossed her arms. "I'm not worrying, I'm just-" Her receiver pinged in her pocket. She got it out while she continued. "-just making sure everything will go smoothly. I don't want you stranded in another continent." A message blinked on her screen from Spock.

She could feel Makena's eyes on it. "Hey, what's _he_ messaging about?"

"Nothing," Nyota answered. She tucked the receiver back in her pocket. "Probably just a work thing."

"A work thing?" The incredulity in Makena's voice was louder than her words. "That's not a work device."

"So?" Nyota looked away and watched the wind blow the leaves from the plaza's trees.

"So," Makena started, shifting to get her attention, "I thought you guys were broken up."

Nyota shrugged. "We are - I mean, it's complicated."

An irritated sound broke through the air. "You are ridiculous. What about all that stuff you said when you came home about him wanting to leave and go to Vulcan? I thought that's why you left your ship." A huge part of Nyota wanted to tell Makena to just drop it, but another part whispered to her, warning her against another fight. It was what had started the whole tension between them in the first place.

"I don't know," she admitted. "It's not like anything's changed. I just really miss him, okay?"

Makena took the hint. "Okay." They drank in silence for a minute, and Nyota could hear the Vulcan song drift over and fill her head with memories. "Well, there is one thing we still have to do." Nyota waited for her to continue. _Cake_ , she mimicked in her head moments before Makena shot up and shouted in an inappropriately loud voice. "Cake!" Knowing she would miss her sister to bits by tomorrow, Nyota allowed her one last chance to drag her around by the sleeve. After they had enjoyed one too many slices of cake in her quarters, Nyota sneaked a peak at her receiver under the table.

 _Nyota,_ Spock had written, _happy birthday_.

She smiled and felt her heart beat a little faster in her chest. It had been, indeed, a very happy thirtieth birthday.

* * *

A/N: As Thanksgiving just passed, I guess it's a good time to say thank you to everyone who continues to read this story. I know I haven't been as good about updating it as the last two, so it's really nice to know there are still people who want to read it. As another update, I noticed that I've been spelling liaison wrong this _entire_ time. I feel like a bit of an idiot, so I've gone back and fixed that. Sorry! I also saw in the last chapter that I incorrectly referred to Paris as Admiral instead of Commodore. Forgive me for that as well, I hadn't posted in a long time, and I just forgot. Other than that, I hope you all are having a nice start to your weekend, and I'll be back again soon with another chapter. Thanks!


	11. Chapter 11

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **ACT III**

 **Part 3**

The day Yorktown Medical discharged Georgia Vinn was the day Nyota received news of her latest assignment. Before Vinn boarded a shuttle to Luther IV, her home planet, she had agreed to go with Nyota to the small café near the hospital. When she had first come to Yorktown, Vinn had looked worse for wear, but it had been about a month since she'd been found, and Nyota could see a hint of color returning to her face.

While in the hospital, Vinn had told them of the humanoids that had taken Abigail Cole. They called themselves the Maverians, and they were extremely territorial. Exploration on the southern continent had all but halted as Starfleet needed to negotiate with the inhabitanats for further expansion. Under Federation law, Starfleet was prohibited from infringing on the laws and culture of any sentient species, and because the Maverians were not, as far as they could tell, warp capable, Starfleet's presence on Altamid in the first place was suddenly in jeopardy. The situation was further complicated by Krall's previous rule of the northern continent, as well as the still missing crew members and the Maverians knowledge, if not possession, of advanced technology.

When pressed on the issue, Vinn and the others had claimed that the alien species had been unwilling to listen to their plea for assistance, instead robbing them of most of their rations and technology and killing Cole as a warning to stay away. Now, as Vinn stirred her coffee drink with a spoon, Nyota could see the way her head jerked around, as though still scanning for threats. It was good that she was taking time off from everything.

"You look good," Nyota said.

Vinn continued to clang her spoon against her cup, the sound ringing in Nyota's ears. "Thanks." The background music changed, and underneath the hum of conversation in the busy café, Nyota could recognize the tune. Vinn's eyes lit up, and she brought her gaze up from the table. "Hey, that song. You used to sing that all the time. How does it go? Um, bring me the stars, or, um," she trailed off, her lips pursed together in thought.

"I'll bring you the stars, and I'll bring you the moon. There's not one single thing I'll not do for you," Nyota finished, humming along as the music played on. It was an old song, from before even her parent's were born, and it had about the same depth as a puddle. Still, there was something comforting to it.

Vinn laughed a little. The smile looked nice on her. "That's it. You have such a nice voice, Uhura. I missed hearing you sing."

Tapping her freshly painted nails along her mug, Nyota glanced mischievously at her. "That's funny. I remember a lot of complaints from you and Longo about my taste in music."

With a blush, Vinn shrugged. "Well, I'd hardly say it's improved, ma'am." Nyota started to tease Vinn when her communicator buzzed. She excused herself from the table, pushing open one of the glass doors to stand by the empty outdoor tables. This time of year, no one wanted to enjoy their drinks outside. Huddling in a scarf and jacket, Nyota flipped open her device. "Uhura."

"We don't have a lot of time." Eilum. She sounded harried, her breathing rough. "Listen, at 14:00 hours, I need you packed and ready to go."

Nyota rubbed the space between her eyebrows. She would get wrinkles by the end of these nine months. "Go where, Captain?"

"Gorad. We have to get there by the morning," Eilum informed her. Thinking back to their first contact on Altamid, Nyota remembered the friendliness of the Ghozgada. Truthfully, she wouldn't mind a chance to meet with them again.

"Why the hurry?" Nyota asked. "I've been studying everything they've been sending, but I haven't exactly been preparing for a diplomatic visit."

"It doesn't matter. Paris wants us gone yesterday. The Romulans have been worming their way in with them, and the last thing anyone in Starfleet wants is for more trouble through that nebula. They're sending us on a good old fashion kiss ass mission, and you and Bell are the only officers on the station with any real experience with them. So get packing and meet us in the shuttle bay in an hour." The communication line went dead a moment later, and Nyota held the communicator up to her forehead, thinking about what to say to Vinn.

Through the glass, Nyota watched as Vinn continued to stir her coffee without any intention of drinking it. Nyota had picked a corner table to help her feel more at ease, but going by her expression, Vinn was ready to leave. Waving the other officer over as she walked inside, Nyota told her about leaving early. "I was hoping to see you off later today. You'll be fine going to the shuttle bay by yourself?"

Bolting up from the chair, Vinn nodded a tad too vigorously. "Absolutely, you go ahead, Lieutenant." While it was still technically correct to refer to her as such, Nyota smiled with indulgence at the old title.

"You'll be fine to wait here before you leave?" She worried about the business of the café and regretted bringing them somewhere so out in the open in the first place. Vinn assured her that she would be completely fine in a way that screamed exactly the opposite, but Nyota had no choice but to go back to her quarters and pack after hugging the younger officer goodbye.

Folding a few different uniforms into a bag, Nyota finished packing in record time. She gathered the remainder of her toiletries and all of her work devices, took one sweep of the room, shut off the lights, and left for the shuttle bay.

When she arrived, Nyota saw Bell, two other security officers, and Dr. Carson, the Chief Medical Officer on the starbase, all waiting around the shuttle. There was absolutely no sign of Eilum. Once she placed her bag inside the hull, Nyota walked over to Bell. "The captain was very insistent that I be here at 14:00 hours," she said, noting that the time was now 14:02.

She could see Bell fighting a smile. "I believe there was a last minute ... discussion between the captain and the commodore as to the length of our stay on Gorad. We were invited for a month." Nyota's eyes widened.

"I didn't realize it would be so long." She hadn't packed for a month.

"Paris would prefer that after the first week, the captain and I should return, and the four of you," Bell said, motioning to the security officers and the doctor, "should stay for the remainder of the trip."

Carson snorted and muttered, "I bet that didn't go over well." Nyota had met Carson a few times in passing, but had never talked with her beyond a simple hello. She was around Eilum's age, tall and dark-haired, and had a far less formidable attitude than the CMO with which Nyota was more familiar.

She had also heard, though this was mostly through Daniella, that the doctor was a notorious flirt.

"Why not?" The comment had made Nyota curious as to what Bell and Carson thought was so funny. It was strange to be out of the loop, when on the _Enterprise_ she had been in every loop, courtesy of her position.

"She's a perfectionist," Carson answered.

With a slow blink, Nyota repeated, "Perfectionist?" Were they talking about the same person? Nyota could think of many words to describe Eilum: disorganized, energetic, overly-familiar, even, she granted reluctantly, kind, but certainly not perfectionist.

Carson smiled and looked to Bell. "You've known her the longest. Why don't you explain?" Just as soon as Bell opened his mouth to respond, he clamped it shut. They all saw Eilum running towards them. "No time. In, in, in," she panted, practically pushing them all into the shuttle. Once inside and strapped in, Nyota closed her eyes and settled back into her seat. She knew from experience that the more sleep she got now, the happier she would be later on.

The apprehension buzzed inside her mind, making it difficult to truly rest, so Nyota passed the flight trying to remember what Spock had said about meditation techniques. It had been years since she'd tried them, and it wasn't going well. Maybe she should message him about it?

No. Yes?

Maybe. She definitely might message him tonight, probably.

A few hours into the flight, while Nyota mentally crafted a hundred different ways to message Spock about meditation instead of actually meditating, Eilum shifted beside her and shook her arm. Nyota cracked open an eye.

"You need to read these before we land," Eilum told her, seeming uncharacteristically professional while handing her a few padds. Stacking them in her lap, Nyota turned on one of them and began to browse the reports. Mostly, they concerned Starfleet's current knowledge of Ghozgadan culture and physiology, but Nyota already knew much of what was in the reports. They were a single-gender species that emphasized unity and peace, in a fashion not dissimilar to Earth. They once worshipped what now they believe was an alien race that resided on Altamid. They had two off-world colonies and only a relatively weak alliance system with a few other planets farther removed from the nebula.

The last padd was a debrief on Romulan attempts to form an alliance with the Ghozgada before the Federation was able to make their big pitch. Already, the Romulans had visited the planet twice. Nyota's heart began to pick up its pace as she thought back to their cancellation with Yorktown. Anger flared inside her chest. They had time to visit Gorad, but not them?

By the time Nyota had finished going through the reports, the shuttle pilot announced that they were thirty minutes away from the planet. Eilum gathered their attention and addressed them all. "This is a strictly diplomatic mission. We're here as representatives of Starfleet and the Federation, and it's imperative that we don't screw that up. Do whatever the Ghozgada want, within limits. Bell and I will stay for the first week, but Carson, Uhura, Steele, and Jacobs, you'll be here for the entire month. The Romulans won't show their faces while we're around, hopefully, but don't engage them if they are. Uhura and Bell already started us off on the right foot. All we've got to do is keep that momentum going."

As they approached the planet's surface, Nyota peered out of the window to her right. The atmosphere was thick with fog, but the closer the shuttle got to the ground, the more clearly she could see. Lilarad, the capital city of the planet, had been built on swampy grounds. The buildings, surrounded by green lakes and jagged mountains, swirled into the clouded sky.

Upon landing, the group of them exited the shuttle to meet their welcome party. Three Ghozgada, dressed in more ornate outfits than the uniforms from their last meeting, stood on the landing pad. One stepped forward, and Eilum followed suit. "Welcome to Gorad, Captain Eilum. I am Lan, first member of the Council of Leaders." Lan bowed their head.

Copying the action, Eilum responded. "Thank you for meeting with us, Councilor." She motioned toward the rest of the group and introduced each of them in turn. Lan did the same for the two other council members, though they appeared to be lesser in rank and spoke little.

"Let us show you where you'll be staying," Lan invited, leading them across the landing padd into the adjacent building. It resembled a coiled spring with its circular walls arranged in loops until it met in a cone shape at the top. They were taken a few floors higher until they reached a nondescript door three levels up. Inside was a main living area with rounded walls. A large screen hung on the wall opposite to the door. The floor was some kind of dark, almost black wood, and the seating looked interesting, if not entirely comfortable. Lan showed them how to use the equivalent of a replicator and explained that each room was a separate sleeping area for the five of them. The Ghozgada then excused themselves, telling them they could settle in for the rest of the day and enjoy the city below at their leisure.

As soon as the Ghozgada had left, Eilum began issuing orders. Stress etched into her voice, worrying Nyota. Thankfully, Eilum wanted Nyota and Jacobs to go with her to the surface of the city to walk around. It was important, Eilum had said, that they be visible and friendly. Jacobs trailed behind them by a few steps as they made their way across a grassy walkway. More coil-shaped buildings ascended from the ground around them. Night fell on the planet, and multi-colored lights glowed from windows and store fronts. They attracted eyes everywhere they went, but Eilum managed to keep things going smoothly, both with the Ghozgada and with Nyota.

"Captain." Nyota caught Eilum's attention after a street vendor offered them a cold treat similar to ice-cream but with the texture of sweet potatoes. They called it sol.

Biting into the dessert, Eilum acknowledged her. "Yes?"

What Nyota really wanted to ask was why Eilum felt so anxious about their being there and about her having to leave early. Instead, she said, "The Fibonans contacted us yesterday. I meant to tell you when I went back on duty, but ..." But they hadn't gone back on duty because they'd been sent to Gorad with hardly any notice at all.

"Did they say anything about the piece of the abronath?"

Sighing, Nyota chewed her own sol. "Yes, but only that it had been in their possession for at least a couple of centuries. Their records indicate that they _retrieved_ it from a derelict ship in their space."

"Retrieved?"

Nyota clarified. "The more I learn about their history, the more I doubt even that the ship had been abandoned before they took it."

"Whose ship was it?" Eilum asked. "Anyone we know?"

With a shake of her head, Nyota answered. "They said that no one recorded the type of ship. It could have been anyone's."

Eilum's eyes narrowed, and she walked closer to Nyota. "Could it have been from here?"

The thought hadn't even occurred to her, but it made sense, given their proximity to Altamid and the artifact's origins. "It's possible."

"We can do some digging while we're here, see if the Ghozgada keep better records than the Fibonans."

There was a strain in Eilum's voice. Nyota couldn't hold herself back any longer. "Captain, you know," she started, then stopped, searching for the right words, "that we'll be fine here after you go."

A sharp expression from Eilum made Nyota immediately regret speaking at all. "Thank you for your input, Commander." It was colder than what she was used to from the captain, and it took Nyota aback. The conversation died out soon after, and she was left feeling slightly hurt for the rest of the evening.

In self-pity, she messaged Spock as soon as she was alone in her quarters. His reply came a half hour later and slightly soothed her bruised ego.

* * *

On the fifth night of their stay on Gorad, the Ghozgada invited them to an annual celebration in the center of Lilarad. Every year, they celebrated the unification of two groups of Ghozgada that had joined the planet into a single government nearly three hundred years prior.

Nursing a bitter drink, Nyota watched as Eilum mingled with a group of dignitaries, Bell and Carson at her side, while Jacobs and Steele had retreated to the corner. She had pleaded a need for refreshment as an excuse to take a break from their hosts' constant barrage of questions. The Ghozgada did not appear to have the same social norms that Humans had and were about as blunt as Telleraites when it came to personal and philosophical conversations.

Now, Nyota had no trouble discussing the reproductive processes of Federation species or the morality behind the Prime Directive _in the appropriate_ _setting_. All week, she had been thrown for a loop, and as the liaison, she had been the only one not allowed to show it.

She had also come up short when it came to the abronath. The Ghozgada had put her in contact with the director of Lilarad's Modern History Museum, but no description of any weapon matching the abronath could be found, and though they had decent records of their starships from the time period the Fibonans had estimated, there was no way to confirm Eilum's theory.

"Lieutenant Commander Uhura?" a voice from over her shoulder asked.

Nyota turned. "Li Leisel," she smiled with a pleasant surprise, reaching out to shake hands. "I'm glad to see a familiar face."

"Are you enjoying the party?" Leisel's uniform was altered to be more ornate, rather like Nyota's, and had delicate, golden stitching down the torso.

After nodding and sipping her drink as an answer, Nyota leaned closer to Leisel in order to be heard. "The hall is very beautiful," she said, pointing towards the cone-shaped ceiling with her free hand. "Do you know what the paintings mean?" All along the dark, stone walls were images of Ghozgada in unfamiliar clothes. They extended upward far beyond what Nyota could see.

"Did they tell you that this is where the elders of the two tribes signed the unification treaty?" Leisel gazed up at the paintings, eyes shifting from turquoise to violet. "They did not choose this place at random. Both groups claimed it as their own. In fact, the city itself was split along a line that ran straight through the center of the building. The Rowsi, who were believers, called it the Hall of the Gods, while the Lorada called it the Hall of Fear. It's believed to be older than the tribes themselves. You see their faces?" Leisel led Nyota to the closest wall, and the sounds of the party dulled.

Nyota looked at a few of their expressions, as Leisel had suggested. Their mouths were calm, straight. But the eyes ...

"Is it fear, as the Lorada said, or worship, as the Rowsi said? This place is symbolic of why Ghozgada split in the first place. Historians say we were not always at odds, and we have legends about the times Before, when we were one people as we are now. But something happened that changed us. The Rowsi said it was a visit from the gods who wanted us to worship them and provide them with offerings. In return, they would protect us from harm. They called the gods Alta."

That took Nyota aback. "So Altamid actually means something about the gods?"

"The name comes from us. Alta, which means gods, and mid, which means star," Leisel explained.

"The star of the gods? But then, I thought you said it was the Khalada that lived there?"

"It's what most of us call them now, though it originally came from the other tribe, the Lorada. They claimed that the gods were not gods at all, but instead demons called Khalada who wanted to steal our souls." Leisel continued to stare at the painting."Though the Ghozgada abandoned their faith long before unification, the differences which began in our religion bled into our culture, creating a divided planet. Do you remember what I told you about Ki Vocala and how their crew disappeared in the caves? The Lorada and the Rowsi were competing to be the first to put a ship on Altamid. Ironic, don't you think, that Vocala had blood from each tribe?"

Though she still had questions nearly jumping from her mouth, Nyota quieted. She had more than three weeks left to make more progress. She reached out a hand toward the face on the wall, but didn't touch it. The paint on the eyes was reflective, changing color based on the light. "What do you think?"

"Of what?"

Nyota looked up into Leisel's ever-changing eyes. "Are they afraid, or are they praying?"

Leisel's head tilted to the left. "I don't see any reason why they could not be both."

While Nyota was still debating her answer to Leisel's supposition, Eilum appeared at her side. "Excuse me, Li. Commander, I need to have a word." Leisel ducked away after another round of handshakes, and Nyota followed Eilum through a sea of people until they reached doors to the outside. The air was heavy and humid, and though at first Nyota had been happy for a break from the chill of Yorktown, she and her hair were now regretting it. Eilum walked them down a semi-enclosed balcony that circled the building entirely. They passed groups of Ghozgada that had congregated around benches or were leaning over the rail to look at the city below.

Finally, once they reached a secluded section, Eilum motioned for them to stop. The two suns of Gorad's system had both long since set, and in its place, stars speckled the quiet expanse.

"Bell and I are leaving in the morning," Eilum announced suddenly. She was chopping her words like vegetables on a cutting board, and Nyota knew better than to interrupt. "As the senior officer, Dr. Carson will be left supervising the mission."

The way Eilum's eyebrows knit together as though from worry made Nyota nervous in turn. "Captain?" she prompted.

Eilum sighed, throwing a hand up in exasperation. "Carson's great in a crisis, but this isn't one, and she gets easily distracted." Nyota knew firsthand how distracted Carson could get, as just that morning they'd all been greeted by an overnight guest of the doctor's who had little qualms about nudity. Surprisingly, Bell had been the most amused by the situation, still failing to hide a grin right until they had left for the celebration. "I should be staying here, or at least Bell." A note of resentment colored Eilum's voice.

In an attempt to appease her, Nyota clasped her hands behind her back and tried to keep her own words light "Like you said, though, this isn't a crisis situation. By all accounts, and if the Ghozgada want, Gorad should be a member of the Federation within the next few years. At the least, they're amicable hosts with no known ongoing conflicts. This is about as close to safe as we'll get outside of Federation space."

"It's also six hours away on our fastest shuttle," Eilum lamented. "And the closest of our starships is farther than that. It's not the ideal time or place to be undertaking this kind of diplomatic mission." Nyota remembered what Bell had said about the disagreement between Eilum and Paris, and she concluded that this was the crux of it.

Nyota unclasped her hands and asked if two of them could sit on a nearby bench. Though still visibly irritated, Eilum took the bait and joined her. "Captain," she began but then shook her head. This wasn't Kirk. Perhaps that had been her problem all along with Eilum, that she was so set on comparing her to him. Kirk needed all sorts of cajoling and appeals to bravery and loyalty in order to convince him that she was right and he was wrong. So she would use a different tactic. "Can I be straightforward with you?"

That seemed to amuse Eilum. The eyebrows went from furrowed to raised in a flash. "Always."

Unlikely.

"Alright then. The truth is that we don't need you here." The raised eyebrows and smile tugging at Eilum's lips disappeared. Nyota continued regardless. "You know that. So why are you upset?"

Based on experience and the way Eilum was looking at her, Nyota half-expected a flat out denial, an official reprimand, or at the very least a sound telling off by a superior officer. But as the silence between them stretched on, Eilum's expression faded from anger to contemplation, her shoulders relaxed, and when she finally answered, what she said surprised Nyota.

"I believed we should have waited to go on this mission until a starship and her Captain became available. The Gorad may be friendly, but things change in an instant. On missions like this, when everything seems calm, we let our guards down." She caught Nyota's expression and smiled ruefully. "I know I sound paranoid, but it's true. The _Enterprise_ should have taught you that much."

"Yes," Nyota agreed. It had. "But accepting that, and being aware of it, is all we can do." Nyota thought, with an emotion between nostalgia and longing, that Spock would have said something along those lines.

Eilum stopped looking at Nyota, and instead turned to the stars above them. "Do you know about how hosts are chosen for their symbionts on Trill?" Nyota shook her head, curious as to the point Eilum would try to make. "There are only so many symbionts, and not every Trill is compatible, but the prestige of being a host is so lauded in our culture that from the age of children we compete for the honor." She met Nyota's gaze with a playful twinkle in her eye. "They took me out of the pool of applicants when I was twelve. It was the mental stability, I think. They said I was too disordered to be a good host."

If it were Kirk, he would probably welcome a joke. Instead, Nyota asked, "How did you become Joined, then?"

"It was an accident. A happy accident, I think now, but at the time I wasn't so forgiving." Eilum closed her eyes and sighed. "I was an ensign navigator on the _Alamo_ when my ship was instructed to escort a group of scientists from Earth to a research colony. A Trill by the name of Yeyax Eilum was among them. She was old and frail, and I was, well, I was just there." Eilum opened her eyes and laughed softly. "And the rest, I suppose, is history."

A pair of councilors walked by then, greeting them briefly before continuing on. Eilum's demeanor became more intense once they were alone again.

"Things can change so quickly in our line of work. You never know what'll happen, never know who you'll become." An unfocused glaze covered Eilum's gaze, and Nyota wanted to talk more. But then Eilum stood in a bounce, leaving Nyota to sit alone. "I had accepted the risks of Starfleet, and I realize that the officers under me have done the same, but I don't have to like it, and honestly, I'm a patented worrier, even if I don't seem it."

The lights from the party peaked through a nearby window and lit the space around them. Nyota thought Eilum looked different in these lights, calmer, more collected. "Carson said you were a perfectionist."

With a snort, Eilum waved her hand. "And Carson's brain's become addled in her old age. Paris's, too, though don't tell either of them I said that." The dismissal didn't come out quite as believable as Nyota thought Eilum had wanted it to, but then she leaned forward and added, "My husband was right, Nyota. You have a good ear."

She couldn't help the blush of embarassment that crept up the back of her neck. "I am sorry about that, you know."

Laughing, Eilum started to walk back to the party. "So you've said." She turned and winked back at Nyota. "Don't worry. You're not the first officer to get drunk at that bar, and I doubt you'll be the last. Aren't you coming?"

Noticing that she hadn't moved an inch, Nyota hurried to catch up, and she thought quietly to herself that kind was quite possibly the most apt way to describe the captain walking in front of her.

* * *

Rain fell down in sheets, obscuring Nyota's vision of the Ghozgada in front of her. They were descending into the earth.

It had been another week since Bell and Eilum had left, and Leisel had invited Nyota to accompany a group of archaeologists within an underground city on the other side of the lone continent of Gorad. Security was unneccesary, though both Jacobs and Steele offered, and Carson was busy herself studying medical journals from Ghozgadan doctors. It was Nyota alone on the trip, but she was in good company.

Leisel spoke as they approached the sunken site. "This was found only weeks ago. It's the stuff of legends. And it's almost entirely intact, can you believe it?" Brimming with excitement, Leisel would rush ahead, see that Nyota was further behind, then slow down to meet her halfway. It was considerate, and Nyota was glad someone was paying attention. The others appeared happy enough to mostly ignore them both.

As they trekked further down, Leisel asked questions about Earth.

"I do not understand," Leisel admitted, again waiting for Nyota to catch up. The mask that covered her face, along with the heavy rainfall, made it impossible to see much of anything. "How have Humans travelled so far, and yet you only became warp-capable two hundred years ago?"

Nyota ducked her head as they entered a set of stone stairs that took them closer to the actual city. "The Federation allows scientists and researches from across the quadrant to work together. Everyone has benefited from their progress, including Humans."

"But the Federation is barely one hundred years old. What did your people do in the time between?" Leisel wondered.

"We had help, mostly from the Vulcans." Inevitably, she thought of Spock. He would find this fascinating, probably with his face buried in a tricorder. She smiled.

"Leisel, I've been meaning to ask you about something," Nyota said, switching her mind to more pressing matters. "We've come across people calling themselves the Maverians on Altamid. Do you know anything about them?" When Nyota had attempted to ask any of the council members about them, she had been met with a brick wall. Maybe Leisel would be more willing to talk, which was half of the reason Nyota agreed to go with Leisel in the first place. "They're not like the other species we've found on the planet, the one's Krall captured. Those people all want safe passage home. We've offered the same to them, but the Maverians claim that Altamid is their home."

"They are complicated," Leisel finally answered but didn't continue, as the group had reached level ground. The subterranean room was large, empty, and circular, and it looked as though the archaeologists had set up a kind of headquarters there.

Nyota and Leisel were assigned to B Group and given a small pack to be carried with them at all times. Inside, she found a flashlight of some kind, a communicator that Leisel showed her how to operate, a rough layout of the city they had discovered so far, and some food and water rations. "Will these be okay for you?" the group leader, Soral, asked. Nyota assured them that it would, and again, Leisel and Nyota followed behind as they were led down more sets of stairs. The walls were closing in as the tunnels became narrower. The Ghozgada started to permanently duck, though Nyota remained mostly in the clear.

"Who are the Vulcans?" Leisel said.

Nyota looked up from the map she had been given. "Oh. They're another Federation species. They're the first other species that Humans ever met."

"Are they similar to the others?"

As Leisel had only ever met a Deltan, a Trill, and a handful of Humans, Nyota said that they were. "But their philosophy is particularly unique. Most Vulcans repress all emotion and rely solely on logic." She considered briefly mentioning the destruction of their homeworld, but decided it would veer the conversation too far off the course Nyota needed it to take.

"How strange," Leisel commented as they came upon an intersection of paths.

"This is where the map ends?" Nyota stopped, pointing down a side tunnel which looked to be even more cramped than the main one. While the rest of B Group continued ahead, Leisel stepped down into the side tunnel and motioned for Nyota to follow. "Shouldn't we tell them where we're going?" she reminded.

"I already did," Leisel assured, though Nyota hadn't seen them talk to the rest of the group at all. "I wrote a message to Soral on the communicator. Come on. Maybe we'll find something exciting." Together, they took out their flashlights, as the tunnel had yet to be illuminated by the archaeologists. As the continued on, Leisel spoke more about the excavation site. "They say before the Rowsi and the Lorada, all the Ghozgada lived together in cities that have since been buried. It was all just a theory before. We'd find a few artifacts here or there, maybe a home or building mostly intact. But this, this is an entire city that's been preserved under debris." For a few more minutes, Leisel told her about Ghozgadan history.

When Leisel naturally trailed off in a train of thought, Nyota asked, "Why are the Maverians complicated?"

Leisel didn't answer for a while, so Nyota repeated the question, just in case they hadn't heard her. "We found them when we were first exploring the caves, when the first ships were landing on Altamid. They attacked us, killed us if we got too close. My people offered friendship to them, but they did not want it. They wanted us to go away. Eventually, we did." Leisel paused, then spoke again. "They were the first other species we ever met. It is a disappointment to this day that we could not forge better relations with them, especially as they reside so close to us."

"Where did they come from?"

"No one knows, but they do not travel the stars, nor possess a written language. They live in the caves, but know and rule the surface just as well." In the dark, Nyota heard Leisel almost tsk. "I can see the question in your eyes, but they could not be the Khalada who visited us. It would be impossible," Leisel said. Their words were almost argumentative in tone, as though Leisel were defending a theory, not a fact.

"So they aren't native to the planet?"

Leisel stopped, leaving Nyota to nearly collide with them. "You will get nowhere with the Maverians, Uhura. Whoever they are, they do not want our help or our esteem. Some things should be left alone."

"I'm afraid that's not an option at the present," Nyota answered.

"The Romulans say the Federation wants the planet to spy on them. Is that why?"

While Nyota had known that Leisel was likely reporting all of their conversations to their superiors, as Nyota was, she hadn't expected such a blunt confrontation. Nyota shook her head. "We're not there to spy on anyone. We're there to retrieve our ship, crew, and to do research. When the first two are achieved, then the Federation will consider all other claims to the planet, and if necessary, leave. Particularly now that we know about the Maverians."

In the dim lighting of their flashlights, Nyota could see Leisel relax. "I take you at your word, Commander. But my advice remains. Altamid should be left alone."

"I'll consider it, and pass the message along," Nyota promised. With a nod, Leisel turned, and they continued on.

Typically, Nyota didn't get claustrophobic, and right as she was reaching her limits and as the tunnel got smaller and smaller, finally, it opened into an expansive room. In fact, room was an understatement. It was bigger than the hall from the unification celebration, and the walls stretched upwards in an almost impossibly tall visage of stone. "Wow," she breathed, staring at the entirety of it all. It was particularly damp and cold, and she could hear what she thought might be rain dripping in, falling down from above. The walls were so high that she felt like an ant beside them. The effect was dizzying.

Without speaking, Leisel began to take a few steps further in.

"What is this place, do you think?" Nyota whispered. It felt wrong to talk at a normal level, as though she would awaken long dead spirits left to wither alone underground.

With a shaking head, Leisel said quietly, "I don't know." While Leisel messaged Soral, Nyota started to explore the ground level. The floor was of the same dark material that made up the majority of the tunnels, but the walls, at least to the point that she could see, were stained with some kind of coloring. She shivered and crossed her arms, keeping the flashlight pointed aloft.

It was then that she saw the writing on the wall.

"Leisel!" she half-whispered, half-yelled. Heavy footsteps sounded from over her shoulder. "Look," she pointed to where her flashlight shined on the wall. Peering more intensely at it, Nyota said, "I've seen those symbols before. Where?" The answer lay right on the tip of her tongue. They were so familiar, so ... "It looks just like the writing from Altamid." Digging around in her uniform pocket, Nyota pulled out a tricorder and searched for images of the writing from Altamid's caves. She held it up beside the stone.

"That's impossible," Leisel said immediately. Nyota turned to look at her. Leisel's mouth gaped open, her fingers reaching towards the stone. "We only reached Altamid a few decades before unification. There's no way these could be here."

Nyota moved her gaze back. She analyzed all the curves, looking for inconsistencies. "Some of these look strange. This one," she pointed toward upward, "and that one, too. Actually, a lot of these are all wrong." Disappointment began to flood her mind, and she waited with Leisel for the rest of the group to meet with them. It took about fifteen minutes, but Soral and the others gathered around the stone, using Nyota's tricorder to compare the symbols.

Soral approached, the look in their eyes sparkling. "This is unbelievable."

"What is?" Nyota wondered. Hadn't she been wrong?

Soral led her back to the stone, pointing at a few of the letters. "Those are from our premodern alphabets, before the tribes split. We know what they are." Realization dawned on Nyota, finally.

"And the others -" she began, but Soral finished.

"Are from Altamid. It's a translation."

Nyota could feel her heart beating in her chest, could hear the blood rushing in her ears.

Everything had changed.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading and all! We're officially over halfway done with the story, so the end is -almost- in sight :)


	12. Chapter 12

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **ACT III**

 **Part 4**

Never before had Nyota been this obsessed with learning a language. For the rest of her time on Gorad, she spoke with ancient language specialists, coordinated a translation matrix with Starfleet's database, and hardly slept a wink. And she loved it all.

Carson knocked on the door to her quarters one night. "Uhura," she said, entering the room. Nyota didn't even look up. "Have you even started packing?" Exasperation. It wasn't a tone of voice Nyota usually associated with herself.

"Packing?" she repeated absently, digging through her desk for another padd. Leisel had forwarded her the most recent updates in the slowly forming dictionary of khalad, the name for the language of Altamid.

"We're leaving in six hours."

Six hours? She spun in her chair, finally facing her guest. "I thought the captain approved my request for an extension." Because of the pace, Nyota had specifically asked Eilum if she could stay longer.

With a shake of her head, Carson crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Not anymore. She and Paris want you dropped you off at Altamid."

Nyota frowned. Frustration bit at her tongue. "If they want me to translate for them, they should let me stay here longer so that I can actually figure out what it is I'm looking at."

"Hey," Carson put up her hands, "don't shoot the messenger." Realizing that she had spoken a bit too forcefully, Nyota relaxed. "Anyway, you should pack and get some sleep."

"Sleep on the shuttle," Nyota muttered, turning back to her computer. She heard Carson snort, say her goodnight, and then she was alone again. Sighing, she dropped her head in her hands. The work of understanding khalad was far from finished, and they were months, if not years, away from being able to put a decent language program on the universal translator. She just needed more time.

Spock sent her a message. It beeped in the corner of her screen.

Bleary eyed and ready to admit defeat and pack, Nyota opened the text.

 _Nyota,_

 _Your last message was fascinating. I have made note of the translations you sent and also informed the captain of the most recent developments concerning Altamid._

 _T_ _he captain ordered a two day shore leave on Deep Space 2 which has put t_ _he ship behind schedule for a new treaty negotiation with the Tholians. When I reminded him of our impending mission, I found him unresponsive to reason. This, as you know, is not atypical._

 _I spent much of the shore leave in meditation, and on the whole, the trip was uneventful. My father called also. He is healthy. He wished to know if your research was going well. I told him that I would ask you and relay the information to him._

 _Spock_

Relaxing her shoulders, Nyota leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. They had been exchanging small talk like that for a couple months or so. It was nice, in it's own way. Still, nothing had changed between them. The problems they had faced before their mission to Altamid remained ever present, their last fight as fresh in her mind as though it had happened the night before, but she just couldn't find the anger that had been boiling inside of her then. The anger had been so comforting. It told her exactly what she needed to do.

But it wasn't there anymore, and he still was. He said he would wait. Without thinking, her hand moved up to where her necklace would be resting on her sternum, but all she found was skin. It jolted her.

The exhaustion must be getting to her, she thought. Nyota stood, gathered her things, and prepared for another shuttle ride.

* * *

"We'll see you." Carson waved her goodbye, and Jacobs and Steele followed suit before the shuttle door closed. As they ascended into the atmosphere, Nyota turned up her head and watched their shuttle disappear.

Ensign Smith, the communications officer that she had worked with the last time she had been to Altamid, waited nearby. "It's nice to see you again, Commander." Nyota smiled and returned the greeting, and then Smith let her put her bag away in her quarters before they grabbed a quick bite to eat in the mess.

"Did you hear about the two others being found?" Smith asked. They sat in one of the middle, long tables that stretched a quarter of the room. There were a few empty spots between them and the next group over.

Nyota nodded. "I heard on the way over." Ensigns Olsen and Sean. "Have they been moved to Yorktown yet?"

"Just before you came," Smith answered. "They said their pods were from engineering, too. That makes all ten, er, I mean nine, there's that missing one, all from that section of the ship." The one being Abigail Cole's, which was in possession of the Maverians.

She finished chewing her salad before she responded. "So it was a malfunction in the ship's emergency system? That's pretty serious."

With a shrug, Smith poked at her remaining noodles. "Or in the drones."

"Still," Nyota said with a hint of worry, "that's enough to warrant an investigation."

"The ship's already scrapped. There's no way to tell for sure. My guess is the higher ups will let it go. Not like there's anything to be done for it now."

Placing her plate aside, Nyota disagreed. "If there's a problem with one ship, there's the potential for a problem with others. There ought to be an investigation into it. And other ships also ought to check their emergency pods. What if it's a manufacturing problem?" She suddenly realized how loud her voice had become. Embarassed, she apologized to Smith. "Sorry. It's been a long few weeks." Long few months, she corrected in her head.

Smith laughed a little. "No worries, I know what you mean. And hey, it's your old ship. If anyone's going to be passionate about it, it's probably supposed to be you." They parted slightly later on, and Nyota retreated to her quarters to finally get some sleep.

But as she lay in her bed, something kept pushing at her mind.

Waters was still out there, and each passing day increased the likelihood that, even if she had landed safely, she wouldn't be found alive. The Maverians ruled large swaths of land on the southern continent, and they weren't friendly to outsiders, if the reports Eilum had sent to her were anything to go by. Not to mention the environmental conditions of Altamid's southern pole. Almost constantly near or below freezing, it wasn't a climate suitable for many Federation species, including humans.

It worried Nyota, and she fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

In the following week, Nyota learned more about what had happened to Olsen and Sean. They had confirmed and further explained what had been a similar story as the last four found there.

Their pods were taken by the drones in space, but upon reaching the atmosphere, they began to spin out of control. They made a messy landing about ten yards apart, which destroyed the drones and much of their pods. Avoiding the Maverians and mapping a path to where they thought the _Enterprise_ had crashed had been their main goal in the months since their crash, and for the most part, they had been successful until a rescue team found them.

Of all the crewmembers found, Olsen and Sean had fared the best, which surprised Nyota given where they had landed.

With a final quarter of the planet left to map, the officers on Altamid were calling in extra help from Yorktown. So that was where Eilum had sent her, to assist with the final rescue attempts and to help further documentation of Altamid's caves. It was sound enough logic, and Nyota even felt a bit excited at the change in pace. She did need a break from the constant desk work that her time on Gorad had turned into. Except, well, it was really cold.

Altamid, Nyota soon realized, might as well have been Andoria.

The southern continent, which the Maverians called _Huan_ , had air that bit through her protective gear and chilled her blood.

Even from within the cover of the cavern, a draft from the entrance nipped at her cheeks, so Nyota pulled her collar up to cover more skin. Arms crossed, she turned to their mission leader. Lieutenant Commander Nadar, a particularly tall Orion man, issued separate direction markings on each of their tricorders. "Okay! Scans here show no life signs, but as we know, this planet's been giving us some cause for surprise. Map out what you can, but if you see any cause for worry, contact me. This will be our base camp, and while you all get to go out and have fun, I'll be here." Two of the others let out quiet laughs at his tone. "Don't let me keep you. Off you go."

Nyota gave herself a once over to assure herself that she had everything she needed: holo mapping equipment, communicator, phaser, tricorder, and a napsack that contained a canteen, emergency flares, med kit, an extra energy pack, and two days worth of food and water rations. Precautions in this terrain were necessary. Assured, she nodded at Nadar before facing the cave's entrance. Her face caught the full brunt of the harsh winds, but Nyota bore it without complaint. Her tricorder directed her down the sloping cliff face and into a forest of bristly, evergreen-like trees. The ground beneath her was unforgiving, hard and rocky.

Once the tricorder beeped, she set up the mapping equipment as instructed. A slim machine that ended at her waist, it stood on three sturdy legs and was topped by a spherical holo-imaging device. It's sleek black face would copy and store the grid of land before Nyota moved on to the next patch of land. She switched on the machine, making sure to include only her body signature as something to be unscanned, and then she stepped back and monitored its progress on her tricorder.

It beeped again to inform her of the completion of its task, so Nyota gathered up the materials, checked its data storage, and continued on her path. The monotony of the mission lulled her into an almost meditative calm. She had been doing this for the last week or so, and she'd found the work interesting at first, but the novelty of it had quickly worn off.

Still her mind buzzed with the sounds around her. A group of small, navy blue birds started to sing from a low-leaning branch. The crunch of gravelly rocks under her boots. Rustling from her bag. Measured breaths in and out of her lungs.

Some warm sunlight hit her face through the thickets of trees, and Nyota stopped for a moment to appreciate the warmth. It reminded her of Nairobi and her family, or her visit to New Vulcan, with its orange desertlike heat. What she wouldn't give to be there now, away from the cold. Putting the vain wish aside, Nyota left the sun behind her.

She had started to sing an ancient Vulcan lullaby Spock had once taught her when Nyota noticed a small clearing in her path. A bit of plant life escaped from cracks in the ground, creating a patch-work pattern of vegetation under her feet. An instinctive awareness of danger caused her to be more careful in her steps. Skirting around the edges of the tree line, Nyota kept her eyes and ears open for signs of anything out of the ordinary. The placement of her feet was not on the forefront of her mind.

Which was why, ultimately, Nyota found herself tripping over something metal and cold. She reached out to grab one of the branches from a nearby tree, but her grip wasn't strong enough, badly placed maybe, and she fell face first into the frozen dirt. Her leg caught the edge of whatever it was she had tripped over, and the point of it was tough enough to cut through her uniform and into her skin.

She hissed in pained surprise, her stomach uncomfortably pressed against the body of her inanimate assailant. Nyota twisted around and off the structure, sitting with her left leg clutched in both hands. Her eyes swiveled to her left, and she realized what she had clumsily fell over.

NX-1701.

An _Enterprise_ -issued escape pod. Stripped of materials, Nyota noticed as she stood, ignoring the pain in her leg. She would tend to it later.

The pod was empty of any corpse, which Nyota thanked her lucky stars for. Some glass had been smashed apart, and she caught sight of a copious amount of dried, dark red blood on the padded inside of the pod. Most likely human. Injured? Where would they have gone? Whoever had left this had taken their emergency bundle with them, which included a medkit, so Nyota could imagine that whatever wound the crewmember had sustained could have been treated.

Nyota flipped open her communicator and contacted home base. "Uhura to Nadar."

"Nadar here. Problems, Commander?"

Nyota circled the abandoned escape pod, checking for any other information she could find. "I found an escape pod from the _Enterprise_ , sir. No body, fair amount of damage to the pod, though. Emergency supplies gone, presumed to have been taken by the crewmember. Human blood on the inside." Tricorder readings confirmed it.

"Attacked?"

Nyota considered the question. "Unknown. Maybe a bad landing?"

"Alright," Nadar answered, "I'm getting your coordinates now. I'll inform HQ. Scout the area, but be careful and stay near the pod." Nyota knelt down to inspect the serial number of the pod.

"Acknowledged. Uhura out," she intoned, recording the number down into the tricorder database. Definitely _Enterprise_. Originated from, unsurprisingly, Engineering. Nyota observed unnatural grooves on the outer plating of the pod. Her fingers traced the pattern, feeling the way the metal indented inwards. She thought of Vinn and the small group of security officers they had found. Nyota hoped there was another pod nearby.

If whoever landed here had survived, they might have been on their own for a long time.

As ordered, Nyota took stock of the surrounding area. The only other sign of the missing human's presence was a blood smear on the bark of a tree a few yards out. It had been preserved from the wind and weather by pure luck of the overgrowth nearby. Nyota only barely caught sight of it. Her communicator then crackled to life. "Nadar to Uhura. I'm going to shuttle over to your previous coordinates. Standby." Nyota made her way back to the escape pod and waited.

Within five minutes, Nadar stepped out from the small shuttle.

He brushed off nonexistent dust from his gray uniform jacket and then greeted her. "Uhura," before he said anything further, his eyes traveled down to the leg of her pants. He gestured to it in surprise. "You're bleeding." Nyota's eyes followed him in confusion before remembering what had happened.

"I forgot. Hold on one moment," Nyota requested, sitting back against a tree and pulling her sack from her back. Nadar walked over and shook his head as she pulled out the medkit.

"Forgot? How Human," he commented as though her behavior was almost quaint.

Nyota frowned, rolling up her pants to above her knee. The skin of her leg raised with goosebumps from the cold. "We're a bit forgetful in the heat of the moment," Nyota said diplomatically. She thought of Gaila and the copious amounts of questions she'd had regarding strange human cultural practices. The frown deepened.

"I'll say," Nadar agreed. While Nyota set about cleaning and sealing the cut, Nadar started to inspect the escape pod. She informed him of her other findings, and he listened with obvious care. When she had finished he spoke again. "Good work. We should send this blood back for analysis. The labs might be able to identify who landed here."

They worked together to get a viable sample, and then he contacted HQ to request a pickup. He insisted she go with the incoming shuttle. When she protested the necessity of returning, Nadar gave her a look. " Your uniform's ripped. Go back, change, and get the data from this. If you still want to come back and map, feel free."

"Of course." Nyota bit the inside of her cheek in quickly fading irritation. Her leg was cold, after all. They searched the area further, looking for more traces or clues of what had happened, but they found little besides what she had already seen. When the shuttle arrived, Nyota took the blood sample and left the mapping equipment behind with Nadar. The ride back to HQ was nerve-wracking. She spent the whole time fighting the urge to jump out of her skin, and she wished desperately for Starfleet to figure out a way to rig up a transporter system on the planet.

When they finally arrived, Nyota contacted the labs and made sure they knew she was on her way. Nadar had already gotten in touch with them, and she'd spent enough time at the base now to the navigate the maze of floors and corridors with ease.

An older technician greeted her. She was Human, her russet colored hair tied carefully behind her head. They shook hands in greeting. "Dr. Bolin," she said.

"Lieutenant Commander Uhura. These are for you," Nyota informed, passing off the vials in their sealed container. "How long until we can get an identification?" The doctor carefully set the container down on a nearby lab counter, a long slab of stained white metal alloy, and she considered Nyota's question.

"Fifteen minutes, tops."

Nyota nodded. "Good. I'll be back here then."

"See you then, Commander," the doctor called out as Nyota left the bright lights of the laboratory. She reached her temporary quarters in record time, recycling the torn uniform and reaching for a new one. Through a computer dock, she had to request replacements for the weather-specific pants and jacket, and while the replicator worked to materialize them, Nyota used the remainder of her time to take a quick sonic shower.

Dressed once more, she double-checked all her supplies and went back to the lab. "Nice timing. We've just finished," Dr. Bolin said upon Nyota's arrival. She gestured for Nyota to join her in the corner where a screen displayed a few diagrams she didn't recognize. "It's from a human, which you already know. Hmm," the doctor continued, scanning the computer, "Waters, Penelope. Lieutenant. Engineering Division. Ringing any bells on your end? You were on the _Enterprise_ , weren't you?"

Swallowing down emotions, the primary one being hope, Nyota responded. "Yes, I was, and yes, I know her."

"That's good. By my accounts, there's only one other crewmember unaccounted for," Dr. Bolin said, eyes still trained on the screen, fingers tapping. "Petty Officer Uma, Science Division. Maybe you'll find her pod nearby." The doctor's gaze flicked up to Nyota.

"Let's hope. Thank you."

Hope began to flourish again for Penelope Waters.

* * *

A/N: I've been so busy lately, it's crazy, but finally things died down a bit, so I was able to write this last part for Act 3. I know it's a bit shorter than most of the other chapters, but hopefully it's enough to set up the next part of the story. I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you to everyone for any feedback at all. It's much appreciated!


	13. Chapter 13

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **ACT IV**

 _Love, I thought, was like an orange, a fixed and sharply defined amount, limited, finite. Each person had this amount of love to distribute as he may. If one had many people to love then the segments for each person would be smaller and eventually love, like patience, would be exhausted._

 **\- Olive Senior, Love Orange**

 **Part 1**

Nyota seemed to spend every waking minute in the caves.

She scanned in words and pictures, sent them to the Ghozgada, and traced the lines with her fingers, hoping for something concrete. On cloudy and snowy days, she hunkered down, usually alone, and spent sunrise to sunset within the cavernous walls. Sometimes, when rare signs of sunshine peaked through, Nyota emerged and helped Nadar and his team look for Waters and Uma. About a week after the discovery of Waters' pod, someone else found the remains of Uma's. Pieces of the pod had been mostly buried by snow, but there was no sign of blood, and again, the emergency supplies was missing. Nadar thought the crash sites were close enough that the two might be together. For both their sakes, Nyota hoped he was right.

On one of those sunny days, Nyota hiked up the side of a mountain, a few other officers at her side. They had just finished mapping another large swath of land, and her legs ached from the hours of walking. Swallowing down water from her flask, she tried to remember the last time she hadn't felt tired.

"Nadar to Uhura." Her communicator buzzed at her side. Tucking away her water, Nyota pulled out the communicator and answered.

"Uhura. What is it, Commander?" she asked as they reached base camp. The others went inside, but she sat down on the outskirts of the cave. The wind had picked up in the last half hour, and she shivered as a gust of icy air pushed through her uniform.

A crackling sound lit through the communicator before Nadar spoke again. "We found another one of the crew." Nyota stopped shivering. "It's Jamie Uma. She's conscious, but she's refusing to come with us or let the medics look at her. We thought a familiar face might help." The weariness that had been hugging her bones for days disappeared for just a moment. They found another one of the crew.

"It was a big ship, Commander. She'll probably recognize me, but I'm not sure what good it would do." Nyota remembered Uma, but she had known everyone. It had been her job.

"I'm running out of ideas, and I would rather not force her. Just come over and see what you can do. If it doesn't help, it doesn't help."

"She's alone?" Nyota asked, already packing her things to leave.

"Yeah, but from what we've been able to get out of her, we were right. She and Waters were together at some point." Her breath caught in her throat, but she somehow managed a proper sign off. After receiving the coordinates to Nadar's location, Nyota waited for the shuttle. She paced the ground beneath her, boots catching on bits of gravel and stone. Why did it have to be Waters who still wasn't found? Where was she?

The shuttle came, dropped off some supplies, and then took Nyota less than five minutes away. They were halfway up a mountain, and Nyota could see a team of medics milling around outside the entrance to yet another cave. The whole surface of the planet seemed just like a flimsy cover for the real world underneath of it. She trekked up a small, frost covered path, careful not to slip on the bits of ice that clung to the ground. As always, when walking into the cave, her eyes took a few seconds to adjust.

When they did, the scene in front of her appeared deceptively calm. A small figure huddled in the corner between two rocks, probably Uma based on the wide berth everyone else was giving her. Nadar was the closest, sat against a wall nearby and waving her over. Nyota sat beside him.

He whispered near to her ear. "She's calmer now." Nyota trained her eyes on Uma. Her head was tucked between her knees, her clothes were torn and dirty, but she couldn't tell much else beyond that.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Talk to her. Convince her to come back with us to HQ."

He made it sound so simple, but Nyota knew it would be anything but. Even looking at Uma made her heart swell with anxiety and guilt. It felt like her fault, felt like all of them should be ashamed for not finding her sooner. And where was Waters? How much longer could Nyota keep believing that she was still alive?

Clearing her throat, Nyota moved forward a few inches and kept her voice low. "Hello, Uma." She received a wet cough in response, nothing more. " It's Uhura. From the _Enterprise_."

Uma moved then, bringing her head up and blinked rapidly. Pale skin, jutting cheekbones, sunken eyes all spoke to the harsh climate she'd been living in. Her hair had been cut, Nyota finally noticed, and underneath all the muck and beyond some frozen clumps, it didn't look half bad. Had Waters helped her?

"Lieutenant Uhura?" Uma finally said in a scratchy voice. When Nyota nodded encouragingly, she was met with recognition. "The Bridge. You would visit in the labs. I remember." Memories swarmed her, of pulling Spock away from an experiment after days of not leaving the lab, and of accompanying Sulu to see his progress with the newest species of plant, and of meeting Carol at the end of Gamma shift, only to pass out over dinner in the rec room together.

Nyota smiled and nodded again, moving even further forward still. "We've been looking for you a long time. It's so nice to see you again."

"Uhura." Uma said her name like a plea. Tears started to stream down her face, and her words flew out even faster. "You have to find Penelope. You have to. They won't listen to me, nobody's listening. She left, but she never came back. There was a storm. Oh, god, it's all my fault. All my fault." Burying her head once more in her crossed arms, Uma sobbed in earnest.

Nyota stepped closer until they were a few feet apart and crouched down.

"Was she with you?"

"We stopped in the cave. I had been getting worse, and her leg, it just wasn't good. So we set up camp, and - and it was my turn to do the star charts, but I had a fever, and we'd run out of regulators." Uma's voice became thick and heavy, and the trembling began again. Nyota thought she probably still had a fever. "She went out for me. There was a snowstorm. I waited for her to come back, but she never did."

"Uma, I need you to look at me. Please." It took about half a minute for Uma to lift her teary eyes towards her. "We are going to do everything in our power to find Lieutenant Waters, okay? But you staying here is not helping her."

"I can't leave without her." Uma sniffled, wiping her nose with the crook of her arm.

"Yes you can," Nyota said.

"I can't."

Slowly and deliberately, Nyota placed her hand on the cold skin of Uma's arm. The younger woman flinched but did not move away. "You can, Uma, because that's what Waters would want. You know that." Uma looked down, the disbelief plain on her face. "She wouldn't want you to be sitting here, arguing with people on her account. She can do that just fine on her own."

She saw the first hint of a smile.

"That's true."

The wind howled outside, audible even from their spot within the cave. She tried not to frown at the thought of Waters still out there. "Why don't you come back with me to HQ?"

Uma finished another round of coughing before she could answer. "What if she comes back looking for me, and I'm not here? I can't just leave her behind."

"Some people will stay, just in case that happens," Nyota assured. When Uma still looked conflicted, her eyebrows bunched together, Nyota continued in a sure tone of voice. "We won't stop looking for Waters until she is found. _I_ won't stop. No one is getting left behind. I promise." She grabbed Uma's hand and squeezed, as though she could somehow bring the warmth back into her through that action alone.

Uma returned the gesture, and then finally, she agreed to take the med shuttle back to headquarters.

* * *

"Nyota." She looked up to see Ben and Demora walking from the end of the hall. Actually, Demora mostly skipped, a stuffed lion clutched in the crook of her arm.

They had taken Uma back to headquarters the night before, but as with the other lost crew, the doctors had recommended she be moved to Yorktown for treatment. Understandably, Uma hadn't taken the news too well. She'd refused to leave the planet without Waters, but after a time, Nyota wore her down. The only catch was that Uma had worn her down, too. Somehow, Nyota ended up on the shuttle back to the starbase. It probably had something to do with Uma's watery eyes and Nyota's exhaustion.

Either way, it ended with Demora launching herself into Nyota's tired arms in Yorktown Medical, and neither of them was in a biobed. It wasn't the worst way the past two days could have gone.

"Hey, sweetie." With surprising strength, Demora wrapped her arms around Nyota's neck and squeezed. The lack of oxygen didn't bother her at all. No one had hugged her in quite a long time. "Hi, Ben," she managed to say, waving her left hand while her right rested on Demora's back.

He smiled before telling Demora to calm down. "Give her space to breathe, Dem."

"You've been gone forever! Daddy said you went to another planet," Demora said after pulling back and settling on her lap. Her eyes shined with excitement. "Was it nice there? Can I go?" There was a lisp to her speech, and when Nyota took a closer look, she saw that one of Demora's front teeth were missing. It was beyond adorable.

"I did go to another planet, and yes it was nice there." Ben pulled Demora off her and placed her on the ground with an exasperated expression.

"Sorry, she's got a lot of energy in the morning." Demora started to spin with her lion and occupied herself in the way only children could. "I've got to bring her to school soon, but I wanted to say hi. We haven't seen you in months. Seemed like one day you were here, and the next you had disappeared."

Nyota nodded, turning her attention from Demora to Ben. "Yeah, last minute change in plans that ended up being something entirely different than what we'd thought." She realized Ben was dressed for work and holding a small backpack covered in rainbow butterflies and stickers. "Thanks for stopping by, but I don't want to keep you. It's Tuesday, isn't it? What time is it?" She looked around for a clock.

A bemused smile accompanied Ben's answer. "It's almost eight, and it's Thursday." Then there was worry. "Did - did something happen?" At her confusion, he continued, waving a hand around. "It's just, we're in a hospital, and you look dead on your feet, and I -"

"No, no, no." Nyota patted his arm. "Everyone's fine. I'm fine. It's good news, actually. I don't know how long I'll be here, though. I'm sure they'll send me back to Altamid soon enough."

"Did they find another one?" Ben asked. She nodded. "Was it the engineer, the one McCoy was with?"

"No."

He must have seen something more than she'd said because he grabbed the hand that still rested on his arm. "Hey. You'll find her, so don't beat yourself up over it." She smiled at him and would have thanked him, but he turned and dropped her hand. "Demora Sulu, do not touch that thing." Said Sulu dropped what Nyota thought was a dermal regenerator onto the ground.

Where had she even - ?

"And that's our cue to leave," Ben said, scooping Demora into his arms. She pouted on his shoulder. "If you have time before you head out, come over and see us. It'll give me an excuse to clean the house."

Nyota waved them both away. "I'll try. Bye." When they had gone, she settled back in her uncomfortable waiting room chair. Sounds of beeping biobeds, shoes tapping the smooth floor, a pair of doctors discussing the state of the cafeteria's coffee passed her by. She would close her eyes for just a moment, and then she'd return to processing the data from Altamid to the language program.

Just for a moment.

Just for, just.

"Nyota." She jerked forward, eyes darting around before settling on the figure in front of her. From the window past the nurses station, she could see that it was late afternoon. Eilum stood, haloed by the dying light, her hair pulled up in a bun instead of resting in its usual braid. Upon realizing who it was, Nyota relaxed. "I hope I didn't disturb your nap." She had. "You look like you need it."

"Well, thanks," Nyota said instinctively and with a sarcastic bite, before remembering who she was talking to. Thankfully, Eilum laughed it off and took the seat beside her. She passed her a disposable cup. It felt warm in Nyota's hands.

Tea.

"Thank you," she said again, that time meaning it.

"You're welcome. I heard you all found another crew member."

"We did." Wait, had anyone told Eilum that Nyota was coming? "It's Uma. She asked for me to stay with her. I couldn't say no. I got approval from the commander at Altamid. I'm sorry I didn't have time to clear it with you first, but there just wasn't time, and she looked so scared to be alone." She stared down at the cup, wondering that if Uma was the one that was scared, then why was it her hands that were shaking?

"Of course. You made the right call." Eilum looked down the hall. "I was hoping you'd be up to asking your Officer Uma some questions with me. Do you know which room she's in?"

Nyota coughed midway through a sip of tea. "Isn't it a little too soon? She only arrived this morning."

Eilum handed her a napkin from her pocket, which Nyota used to cover her mouth. "Uma knows more than we do about the area. Time's running out to find that last crewmember."

"What do you mean? We've stayed out of Maverian territory, hardly touched the inner caves of Huan. Surely ..." But Nyota trailed off at Eilum's grave eyes. There was no untold joke playing in them then.

"The Maverians are the least of our problems. Altamid," Eilum said, shaking her head, "I doubt we'll still be there by Spring."

"But why?" Eilum never answered, her eyes drifting past her. Nyota turned to see Carson waiting around the corner, waving them both over. "Captain, you made her the attending physician just to be able to ask a barely conscious officer questions about a planet you've never even been to?" Nyota asked under her breath, irritation in every word.

After only a warning look as they approached the room, Eilum ignored her and greeted Carson. They talked, and Nyota simmered with frustration, biting her cheek to keep from interrupting.

Uma was surprisingly chipper when Carson left them to discuss Altamid, though every time she answered one of Eilum's questions, her eyes darted first to Nyota, then to the ground. She told them that she had crashed alone, that her pod hadn't survived after the initial contact. Few of her supplies made it through either, and finding Waters had come right around the time her rations had run out. They had one water purifier between them and were trying to stretch their food indefinitely, eating as little as possible to make it through the day.

Uma's specialty on the _Enterprise_ had been helping examine star charts and advising navigation on the best routes, so she used Waters' intact emergency pack to start determining where the ship had actually crashed based on its trajectory during the attack. And so they walked north. Days turned to weeks turned to months.

The longer the questions went on, the more nervous Uma became. When the conversation turned to Waters, she turned reticent. She said that Waters' leg had been hurt, and no, she didn't know how. The injury slowed them down a lot, and then Uma herself started to become sick. When her condition finally went south, they stopped in the cave where Nadar had found her. Waters went out to get the star charts because Uma was too ill, and she was pretty sure a storm had hit. After a day, Uma managed to make it out of the cave, but Waters was nowhere in sight. She thought Waters had some rations, but not many, and Uma still had the water purifier.

When Uma's eyes filled with unshed tears and gave a small cry of, "It's been over a week. Humans can't live that long without water," Nyota stood from her seated position beside her. The readings on the biobed started to jump.

"Captain," she warned, looking pointedly at Uma.

Eilum really did look apologetic when she said, "Thank you, Officer Uma. That's enough for today." Uma nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Assuring her that she'd be right back in, Nyota followed Eilum into the hallway.

"She looks on the verge of a panic attack," Nyota said. She crossed her arms, and they waited for a nurse and a patient hobbling along with a cane to pass by. "So? The rescue teams should focus on that area alone. Waters can't have made it far."

"If she made it anywhere at all."

Her shoulders stiffened. "I'm sure she did. She's not the type to give up easily."

Eilum leaned her back against the wall and stared at her. "Were you friends?"

"Why?" Nyota asked, unsure of the answer herself.

"Because Uma's right about the water," Eilum said, "so if you would rather stay here for a while, then tell me now. Otherwise, you may find something on Altamid that you don't want to see."

For a brief moment, she considered it. Spending the next few weeks at Yorktown, getting back into that old routine, sleeping in her own bed, it all sounded so tempting. She wouldn't have to be the one to find Waters, frozen under some snow somewhere.

But of course, she couldn't. How could she not? She had promised Uma and McCoy, and nothing was keeping her from seeing it through.

"I'm going back."

Eilum pushed off from the wall after a few seconds, her expression strangely pleased, and nodded. "Okay then. There's a shuttle leaving tomorrow morning, 05:00."

Nyota met her gaze straight on. "I'll be on it."

Spending the rest of the day and night in the hospital, Nyota alternated between staying at Uma's bedside and napping in the waiting room. When it was time to leave, she went to bid Uma goodbye, but found her still asleep. Instead of waking her, she simply left a message on the end table and set out for the shuttle bay.

It had been awhile since she'd been on the train system on Yorktown. She'd forgotten how much she missed having so many people around. On Gorad, she'd been self-confined to her quarters to work, and the silence on Altamid was deafening, the snow blinding. Yorktown was a breath of fresh air after so much time spent away. It felt normal and comfortable.

They were still loading supplies into the shuttle when she arrived, so she made a bit of small talk with the pilot, Ensign Rhodes, who told her he made the trip to Altamid all the time. "It's pretty much all I do these days. Back and forth, sometimes to their headquarters, sometimes to that mountain with the rescue teams. Poor souls, staying there. And it's damn difficult to park."

Nyota smiled but her mind wandered to what Eilum said about leaving. If it wasn't the Maverians, then what could be the problem? No one else had a claim to the planet.

"Oh, hey." Rhodes waved down to the people closing up the back. "Looks like we're ready to go. I'm glad to have the company," he said as they both entered the cockpit. "There's not a lot of conversation to have with a computer."

"Is it always just you?"

Shaking his head, Rhodes started up the shuttle and commed in that they were ready to go. "Every now and again, there's someone that needs a lift to Yorktown or vice versa, or there'll be a few of us shuttles delivering supplies, so we'll talk over the comms. Still it's nice when there's a passenger. Makes it feel more like a trip instead of work." They were cleared for take off, so Rhodes piloted them through the bay doors and plotted a course for Altamid.

Their conversation was cheery, and though Rhodes said he appreciated the company, she in turn appreciated the distraction. Her time away had been a nice break from routine, regardless of the circumstances, and she was both determined to get back and sad to leave.

They were nearly to base camp, and Rhodes was dictating his family's secret spaghetti sauce. Apparently, it had weathered the centuries and was pure perfection. "Okay, okay," he laughed, "so the real trick of it is -" A small bleep came from the panel. "That's weird. Hold on. I diverted us because of the weather, but this should still be right. I don't understand why it's telling me ..."

At first, Nyota thought it was a joke, so she laughed, saying, "Oh, come on. You can't just stop at the best part like that." But then the beeping began, and the computer was issuing impact alerts, and the panic creeped in. "What is it?"

Jumping up, Rhodes rushed from panel to panel, typing in a frenzy, while she tried the comms. Nothing but static greeted her. "I don't understand. This isn't supposed to be one of the dead zones." Nyota looked up, caught by the dead stare in his eyes. They showed her what she didn't want to see. Fear.

"Shit, shit, shit. You need to strap in. Are you?"

"I'm fine, Rhodes, but you're not g-" The shuttle started to fall. Rhodes slammed against the panel and slumped down. Her heart was going to jump out of her chest. Everything was so loud, she was screaming, metal scrapping against glass, and then ...

* * *

Darkness.

A ringing in her ears, so high, what note was that?

Someone was talking far, far away.

"Hold on in there."

Her head throbbed angrily, and she groaned. What happened?

"Oh, shoot - hey, I'm sorry about this. Cover your head!"

Without thinking, Nyota raised her hands to follow the command. She felt heavy, and her ears wouldn't stop ringing, and then a deafening crashing sound hit them, making the situation worse. Glass shattered, and the feeling of it hitting the backs of her hands stung like deep paper cuts. The voice became clearer, less echoed. "It's okay. I'm - wait, Uhura?"

At her name, she stopped blocking her face and did her best to steady her unfocused vision. Starfleet jumpsuit, curls that had been cut close to the scalp, those eyes, she knew those eyes.

Waters was in front of her, upside down. No, wait, that wasn't right. _Nyota_ was upside down. The realization made her heart quicken, and she began to struggle with her harness. Another pair of hands grabbed hers. "Calm down. I'm going to help you get out. Just stay still for a moment." As Waters untangled the straps around her, Nyota looked to her left and saw Ensign Rhodes. There was blood ...

"Don't look," Waters said, turning Nyota's head physically away so that she had to look straight ahead. "Just focus on me. We're going to get out of this thing. Okay, on three, I'm going to unbuckle this. Can you brace your hands down?" How could she be so calm and just, alive, crouching there like she hadn't been gone for a whole year? What about Rhodes? He was bleeding. He needed help. "Uhura. Put your hands below you."

She never knew what it was like to cry upside down. The tears felt strange leaving her eyes the opposite way.

"Good, okay. One. Two. Three." Waters unbuckled the harness, and while balancing on her hands, Nyota kept from falling over completely. Before she knew it, she had been tugged completely free of the shuttle, Waters' arms holding her below her chest. It was then that she could finally see the damage.

For one, the shuttle was on fire, but the snow falling down on it was stopping it rather quickly.

For another, Rhodes was dead. Something was sticking out of his abdomen, his head, oh no, oh on, oh no -

"Is there anyone else in there?"

Nyota just shook her head. No, no, no -

"Alright. I grabbed the medkit in there. Lucky it survived the crash, because I've got nothing left to fix you with." Waters still hadn't let her go. "We've got to get out of here. It's too out in the open. Can you run?" Nyota hardly heard her.

One minute they had been in the air, and the next ... Her head spun, and the nausea appeared so suddenly that the only thing she could do was turn her head and puke in the ground beside them. She collapsed onto her knees, breathing hard into the ground. The snow soothed the cuts on her bare hands, but she now realized they were multiplied infinitely, all along her arms and torso. Her left arm ached more acutely than the other injuries, and she was almost positive there was more bile coming up her throat.

There was nothing she would rather do than stay there, curled up on the ground, but Waters was pulling her up on her right side. "We can't stay. I'm sorry. Let's go." At first, Nyota needed Waters to nearly support her entire weight as she was led away from the shuttle. She couldn't hardly think, let alone move without help. But as time passed, and the cold wind sobered her from her panicked thoughts and fuzzy head, she pushed off Waters and merely followed at a slow jog.

She kept her eyes trained at Waters' feet. Her boots were badly worn, and her right leg had a limp. It hit her then, hard, that she had finally found Waters. Months and months of searching, and here she was. Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble out, but if any escaped, it was lost in the wind. "You're alive," she finally said, her words coming out in huffs.

Not pausing, Waters turned her head back and quirked her lips into a frown. "I'm unlucky like that. Come on, it's just a little further."

Eventually, Waters stopped her jog, grabbed Nyota's hand, and led her along a narrow path between two large hills of stone. "In here. It's safe." She had to practically flatten her body sideways to fit. Near the middle of the path, the two side widened, allowing them to pass through a crawl space and into a small cavern within one of the hills.

It smelled damp, and she could hear water dripping into puddles on the muddy floor. Little light came through from the outside, and she could hardly see a foot in front of her. It didn't matter. Nyota fell onto the floor, her body sore and her mind blank.

Waters had a portable battery light that apparently hadn't drained of life quite yet, and when she flicked it on, it provided a dim glow to their surroundings. Nyota leaned her head back against the wall and tried taking deep, calming breaths. A few moments passed, and even with her eyes closed, she could her the slide of Waters against the wall beside her, sitting so close their shoulders bumped.

Finally, Nyota opened her eyes and announced to the room. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

Waters' green eyes, so much duller than she remembered, responded with quiet amusement. "Tell me about it." She paused, opened the medkit, and grabbed a tricorder before continuing in a more hesitant tone. "It's a good thing the safety field in the shuttle held up, otherwise you'd have been ... Anyway, where did you come from? You look." Waters stopped, frowning at the tricorder as she held it up to Nyota. "Well, not good, and I think your arm's broken, actually, but I mean, you look _clean_. So, I'm guessing that shuttle was from the _Enterprise_ , which is strange because Uma said it was crashing, and it's been so long, so we thought -" Water cut herself off, and her eyes widened. "Oh my - Uma. Have you seen her? We got separated a week ago, or maybe longer. I don't know. She was better about counting the days."

Nyota nodded. "We found her. She's back at Yorktown, getting treatment, and she's absolutely fine."

Her shoulder relaxed, and she leaned back with a sigh. "That's good. But, Yorktown?" Waters rubbed her head in thought. It gave Nyota a chance to stare. She was covered in dirt, from the toes of her boots to the strands of her hair, and there was a raised scar where her hand was, going down from the temple to the corner of her lip. What had happened? It was all Nyota could keep asking herself. "So, where is everybody? Are they back on the ship? Was Uma wrong about it crashing? I thought maybe those drone things had taken it."

Although Nyota had known this would happen, it still startled her that Waters was so unaware of what had happened on Altamid. Uma, too, had been particularly confused, but it made sense, as they had both landed the furthest away from the crash site.

"Most of the crew was captured in their pods, but something happened to a few of you. Your pods malfunctioned, or maybe the drones did, no one knows yet. But, Uma was right. The ship crashed. They scrapped it months ago." Nyota planned on continuing, but the look on Waters' face stopped her. Pure horror.

"Scrapped?" It sounded more like a whimper than anything she had heard come out of the engineer's mouth before. "I don't understand. They can't do that. I built that ship, that's our ship, that's - Didn't anyone try to stop them? Mr. Scott, at least, he must have." She could almost see the moment panic hit. "Mr. Scott, he's okay? And Keenser? And Le - McCoy? Everybody?" Waters lashed out, medkit and tricorder long forgotten, and gripped her shoulders hard enough to leave bruises.

"They're okay, too. There were thirty casualties. When we get back," soon, Nyota hoped, "you can look through the lists."

"Thirty people?" Her voice was low. Hollow.

"Sorry, thirty-one. I forgot to include one of the officers. Her pod crashed here, like yours, on the northern continent."

"Who?"

"Abilgail Cole," Nyota said, the name burned in her memory like a sibling or old friend.

Waters bounced up and began to pace, kicking up small rocks. Her right leg almost dragged in the mud. "Cole's dead? That's, just." Nyota's heart sank at Waters' inability to continue. It took another minute before she spoke again. "How? Was it the impact? Nearly got me, too. I got lucky, though, Uma ..." Waters rubbed her scar as she walked back and forth. How strange, Nyota realized, that she would rather tell Waters that Cole had died, like Rhodes had, on impact.

Rhodes was dead.

She kept forgetting. It didn't feel real.

"She was killed. There's a humanoid species living here. They felt she had trespassed on their territory." Again, Nyota wanted to continue, but there was a nearly murderous glare to Waters' eyes. She stopped and sat down cross-legged and facing her. Her body looked to be buzzing with fury, knees shaking, hands wringing, shoulders rolling. Normally, it might make Nyota nervous, but at the moment, she didn't have the energy.

"I know those bastards. Months of never running into them, and then the moment I'm alone, they catch me off guard. Had to leave Uma behind." Waters practically growled the words, but Nyota couldn't feel an ounce of fear. All the feeling had left. Numbness.

"We thought it was a storm that separated you."

"A storm?" Waters snorted without any humor. "When isn't there a storm? No, they found me, but Uma was still sick. She couldn't fight, and I could tell by looking at them. Those people wanted a fight."

"But we had an agreement for them not to attack any more people."

Waters shrugged, the anger far from faded. "They lied. I led them away from her, but I got lost. Found this place, and I was trying to figure out what to do next when I saw your shuttle crash."

"Starfleet's out there, looking for you. Haven't you seen other shuttles?" Nyota asked, eyes growing heavy as even through her numbness, the pain of her injuries started to fully register. There was a deep, throbbing pain in her arm. "It's why I was on it, to join the search team again. They've probably already realized the shuttle didn't arrive when it was supposed to. They'll find us."

With a shake of her head, Waters said, "We've been staying out of the open recently, since Uma got sick, so I haven't seen anyone. And just so you know, Starfleet isn't the only one that saw that shuttle crash. Those aliens saw it, too. I guarentee it." Waters spit out the word alien.

It made Nyota uncomfortable. "They're called Maverians."

"They killed one of my people for stepping on the wrong side of a made up line," Waters said, her voice low and harsh. Her eyes had dulled further, into a blank, milky green. "I don't care what they're called." Nyota nodded, leaning forward. Her hair fell around her shoulder, snapped from its hold in the crash.

Suddenly and inexplicably, she wanted Spock. She wanted him there because he would know exactly what to do, and she'd know exactly what to say, and together, they would be okay. When was the last time she had messaged him? Yes, she had sent him, Kirk, and McCoy a quick update about Uma, but besides work, had she said anything of substance? She had wanted to, but every time she had tried to write something out, it just looked wrong on the screen. The regret settled in her, somehow worse than the pain in her arm.

Waters kept talking at a pace bordering on frantic. "We can't stay here. They'll find us eventually and probably kill us, too.

"We have to wait," Nyota argued, forgetting her worries and scooting forward until their knees touched. "Starfleet will find us before they do."

"How long have I been missing?" Waters rocked forward. They were so close that Nyota could see the small lines that spread from the scar on Waters' face, like the veins of a leaf. She wondered if it hurt.

"Eleven months, about." She didn't know exactly. It had been a week or two since she'd done the calculation. In the middle of the night, when she couldn't sleep, she'd count the number of days since the ship crashed, since Spock left, since Gaila died. But recently, her work had occupied her enough that she hadn't felt the need.

"And you're still certain that Starfleet will find us first?" Waters closed her eyes and sighed. Her breath fogged in the frigid air. When had it gotten so cold? "I've got water that could last us a few days, but my rations are out. I say we go tomorrow, we raid the shuttle, what's left of it, and then we leave. Unless you want to die here, on this waste of a rock?"

"But -"

Waters laid a hand on her shoulder. It felt rough, even through the uniform fabric. "They killed Cole. They tried to kill me. It's not safe, and betting on someone else to save the day has gotten me nowhere. Look around." Nyota could see what she meant. It was clear that Waters was running low on supplies, and it was even clearer that she was tired of fighting so hard just to survive. Eleven months was a long time to hold out hope.

"They'll find us. We just have to wait." Her voice had turned into a whisper.

"They won't."

Placing a hand atop Waters', Nyota used all of her strength and mustered a smile.

"I did."

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for the response on the last chapter, it's really encouraging. Sorry it took so long to get this part out, I actually have no excuse because I've been on break. I hope you all had a great holiday and are starting the new year off right! :)


	14. Chapter 14

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **ACT IV**

 **Part 2**

Once their argument about staying or leaving started to run in circles, Waters simply closed her mouth and refused to respond. Instead, she set about trying to fix Nyota's injuries from the crash, especially her arm. There were pain meds, which helped.

They helped so much that Nyota dozed intermittently while Waters fashioned a 'sling' by taping her arm to her chest in a mess of adhesive and bandages. "There's not much else I can do," Waters said, winding the tape around her one last time. There was a gentleness to her touch that reminded her of McCoy. He sure would be useful to have on hand. Glaring at the rest of the bandages, Waters frowned. "You would think they'd have made something to fix bones for a medkit by now."

Nyota nodded, blinking her eyes open. "Hmm."

"Nevermind, just sleep. I'll wake you up when we need to go." Watching through heavy lids, Nyota saw Waters roll up her pants leg and rifle through the medkit. Even though there still wasn't much light, she could tell the wound above her knee wasn't new. It looked painful and not healed as well as the injury to her face. When she injected a hypo near it, she let out the quietest cry of relief and then slumped against the wall.

Not able to keep her eyes open any longer, Nyota finally drifted off completely. She dreamed, finding herself in a familiar place. Their quarters, on the Enterprise, her and Spock's. Her eyes landed to the left of the window. The tapestry on the wall was hand-made by his father's mother, an heirloom that though it didn't belong on a starship still looked so beautiful hanging on its walls. She approached it and ran her fingers along the soft threads of gold and crimson.

Sometimes, she wished so desperately to turn back time.

There were hands resting on her shoulders, turning her around. Spock.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I'm lost." She admired him in the soft light of the warp field, the events of the day irrelevant. "But it's okay," she reminded herself as she spoke to him. "You're here now."

He didn't protest when she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. It had been so long, she had almost forgotten the way he smelled, the way he felt in her arms. "I do not understand." His voice sounded so close. "The bond has been closed for fourteen months, and Humans are psi-null. Transference of dream states should not occur."

Confused, Nyota stepped back. The jolting realization of being in a dream hit her with a splash. Her surroundings turned blurry at the corners of her eyes. Looking up towards him, she asked, "Is this real?"

Spock sat down at the edge of the bed and observed each part of the room in equal measure. "In the sense that our minds have converged, yes." He laced his fingers and leaned forward, now staring intensely at the ground as though it were the key to some puzzle he'd been trying to solve. How many times had she seen him in the exact same position, in this exact same place? "But as I said, our bond should not be able to sustain this type of connection, especially when considering its extended disuse and -" He cut off mid-sentence and gave her a searching look. "You."

He waited expectantly, as though she should answer, but her thoughts were sluggish, and she had difficulty focusing. Something about a bond. "Why are we here?"

"I do not know. As impossible as it seems, you called me here."

The blurriness was spreading like colors blending in an oil painting. She stumbled forward, reaching for the bed. "I don't remember." Spock caught her hand before she fell into him. He was so warm, and she was so cold. "Altamid. I'm on Altamid. My arm ..." She trailed off, rubbing the place where it had surely broken but found no pain.

"You are in danger." It wasn't a question. He stood, dragging her back up with him, and his eyes, oh his eyes, this couldn't not be real. "Tell me." She wanted to, she really did, but the room was falling apart beneath them. There was no time to explain, and she couldn't find the words. "Do not go," he whispered, looking only at her, always at her. His fingers moved to her face, and the force of them was bruising. "Focus. You must focus, or else -"

Everything, everything clicked into place, just as their dream disintegrated with one last burst of light.

And then she awoke to Waters shaking her shoulder. Nyota blinked up at her with a racing heart and a bad taste in her mouth.

"How's the arm?" she asked, to which Nyota replied with a not-so painless shrug. "Here." Waters rested a canteen in her lap that made a faint sloshing sound. Lifting it to her lips, Nyota tried not to drink more than she needed, but it was hard to put it down. She muttered a thank you before capping it and tossing it back. Waters drank some herself and then tucked the canteen away in a worn backpack on the ground.

"I was dreaming," Nyota said, "but I don't remember what about. It was important."

Waters finished packing up her bag, tying the ends shut. "How important could it be if you already forgot?" She put the straps around her shoulders and knelt down in front of Nyota. "Come on, we should get out of here."

Giving up on catching the remnants of her dream, Nyota found herself grounded by Waters' words. "We should wait."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Waters bit her teeth together, and now that the shock of the crash had worn off, Nyota finally felt apprehension at the engineer's infamous temper. "If we wait here, we will die. If we're lucky, the Maverians will find us and kill us quickly enough. Some of our other options include hypothermia, dehydration, or maybe a phaser blast." Motioning to her pocket, Waters pulled out the weapon. "Worse comes to worse, I'd rather not die of thirst, and there's still enough charge in here for a few deadly hits."

"You seem to have it all worked out," Nyota said. She wholeheartedly believed that Waters had been serious, and the idea that they could be faced with the choice of their own deaths seemed both overly dramatic and startlingly plausible.

"Well I sure have had a lot of time to think it through." Waters muttered, the rage falling away as quickly as it had come. "That shuttle is all we have, Uhura. Can't you see that?" With those imploring eyes, Waters was asking for her trust.

And Nyota wanted to give it, but she couldn't forget what she knew, and what she knew was that Starfleet would find them soon.

So they agreed to a compromise. They would go to the shuttle, hopefully find some rations, an intact uniform for Nyota (hers had tiny tears along her torso and legs that let in the biting cold), a working communicator, and as Waters added, another phaser. Then, they would return back to Waters' hideout and monitor the crash site for a few days. If no one came, they could reevaluate.

The sun shone high above them when they left their place between the hills. Some snow had melted overnight, making their journey back to the shuttle easier, though with the added 'bonus' of slush and mud. Nyota followed behind Waters, marveling at the harshly beautiful landscape she had failed to notice the first time through. Trees, probably centuries old, towered over them, their branches topped with pointy brown needles and spots of red berries. The sky was clear blue, not a cloud in sight, and the rocky hills around them gleamed in the light of day.

"You said that only a few of the crew crashed separately. So, what happened to the rest of you?" Waters slowed down, matching her steps. Nyota related, as simply as she could, the events of their mission on Altamid. The descriptions of the _Franklin_ fascinated Waters the most, and she seemed pleased, perhaps overly so, knowing that Krall was dead. The mention of _Enterprise_ _-A_ quieted the small smile on her face.

"That's where they all are then," Waters said slowly, "on the new ship." Nyota could sense something hidden there, a deep hurt. But of course there was, because while Waters waited in the dark, everyone else flew away. What had Kirk said to her before the test run, that Waters was probably just a corpse?

Clearing her throat, Nyota nodded once, looking away towards the shadows of the trees.

"Why aren't you there?"

The question was innocent enough, but the answer couldn't have been more difficult to explain. "I wanted to take a break, you know, and help look for everyone."

Waters shot her a curious look, lifting up a thorny vine so that Nyota could duck under without getting scratched. "I didn't think the commander would ever want to leave the ship." It took a few moments for Nyota to catch on to which commander she referred, but once she did, she found herself shaking her head a tad too vigorously.

"No, no, Spock's not with me." That implied ... no those weren't the right words. "He's not on Yorktown."

"You're kidding," Waters said, stopping in disbelief.

"What?" Nyota prompted, her defenses rising quickly.

"He's dead?" Steadying herself on the bark of one of the trees, Waters ran a hand over the short strands of curls covering her scalp.

"He's not - he's not dead." God, she actually stuttered. Why was she getting so flustered, Nyota cursed herself silently. "He's just not on Yorktown. He's on the _Enterprise_ with everyone else. Shouldn't we keep going?" Walking ahead, she heard Waters walking quickly to catch up.

"I don't understand."

"What's there to understand?" Nyota asked.

"He wouldn't go back to the ship unless you were on it." Waters said it so simply, as though this were the plainest fact in the universe.

Nyota's first response went back to defense. What would Waters know about her relationship with Spock? They were friendly, sure, but she didn't count Waters as a confidant, and as far as she knew, neither did Spock, and even if she were either, the presumption that it would take to -

But then she remembered those weeks, and they felt so long ago but really were only maybe two years before, when Spock tried to save Waters' mind through a meld. She hated it, not that Spock had saved her life, but that it had hurt him so badly in the process. Spock was many things, and though she would normally call him cautious, the fact was that he didn't have the capacity to watch suffering and not take action, regardless of the consequences. Where was the logic, he had once claimed, in allowing unnecessary pain?

The result had been a bond between Spock and Waters, and one that, once she made it through, was severed completely by a healer. Nyota had thought, maybe naively, that the severance would be the end of it all, but for weeks, she would come back from shift only to see Spock again in meditation. When she woke up, there he would be. When he should be sleeping, he would instead light his candle and close his eyes, and he didn't breath a word of how he felt until a week after they departed from New Vulcan.

She laid down in bed, disappointed once again that Spock had chosen to remain seated on the meditation mat. Before she closed her eyes, she heard him call her name. The light of the candle cast a warm glow that accentuated the lack of heat in his gaze.

 _What's wrong?_ She remembered asking.

He just stared at her.

 _I thought that after so much grief, I would be capable of organizing my mind around another loss, especially considering the brevity of the connection. From this situation, the only conclusion I can draw is that every grief will bring me backwards and leave me less prepared to face the next._ Everything, everything was in his eyes, rather like Waters.

 _What can I do?_ She had left the bed to sit with him. His skin burned against hers.

 _Do not go._

The memory hit her, the words oddly fresh.

"Sorry." The apology drew Nyota back to the present. Waters was shaking her head. "Forget what I said. It's not my business. Let's just keep going, we're almost there." Nyota nodded in agreement, and they continued on in uncomfortable silence.

Finally, Waters pointed out the shuttle, in the center of an open field of snow. Rhodes body, Nyota thought as her stomach clenched with dread, was still in there. "You should probably be the one to go down," Waters said, rummaging in her bag.

"By myself?" Fear trickled in, along with the dread. Anything could happen, and Waters had warned her about the Maverians being nearby.

Tapping her leg with a phaser, Waters sighed. "I'll just slow you down. This phasers got good range, though. I won't lose sight of you." Though she wanted to argue more, Nyota was cut off by Waters grabbing the back of her uniform and pulling them both down to the ground. "I see something," she whispered. Nyota followed her line of sight to the shuttle. There was definitely someone over there, but it was too far to get a good look. Waters passed her a pair of binoculars from her bag. "Who's there?"

Nyota lifted the binoculars to her face and gazed through them. "Starfleet," she said with a mixture of excitement and relief. "They have Starfleet uniforms. There's four of them, all looking around the shuttle." Someone had pulled Rhodes body out and laid him in the snow, but she didn't mention it. Turning to Waters, she set the binoculars aside. "Let's go." But Waters grabbed her hand as she was getting up and shook her head.

"Wait."

Holding up the binoculars once more, Nyota watched the Starfleet officers pause and run behind the shuttle to where she couldn't see. "Why are they - " she started to ask before hearing a high pitched sound, followed by a loud crash at the shuttle. Nyota trained the binoculars to the source of the sound, about twenty degrees to her left, and about as far as the shuttle crash. Some Maverians had congregated in the woods as well. They were armed.

Nyota had never seen a Maverian in person, despite hearing and reading so much about them. Everyone in the armed group had pale skin and small heads, but she couldn't tell much beyond that at their distance.

"They're leaving," Waters said, pointing at the Starfleet officers as they backed away from the shuttle. One of them, Nyota finally noticed, had a familiar braid of light, blonde hair. Eilum? A sob nearly broke out of Nyota's throat at the sight. They were so close. "We'll have to go back around to catch up, so that these guys don't see us, too."

"We're following them?" Nyota raised her brows. So far Waters had been very vocal in her opposition to Starfleet or their ability to help.

Waters shot her a heated glare. "Look, I want to get off this planet as much as you do. I just didn't expect them to show up this fast, considering. And either way we're out of food. It's not like we have any other options." At the mention of food, Nyota's stomach panged, reminding her just how hungry she actually was. As though reading her mind, Waters handed her the water. "Drink a bit as we walk. It'll help." The experience in her words made Waters' empathetic expression all the more worrying.

By the time they half-jogged back to Waters' hideout, Nyota wanted to flop down in the snow and rest, but Waters made no move to stop. They passed right by the strange cavern and went right back in the same direction, that time on the opposite side of the hills.

When Nyota tired of the silence, she decided she ought to mention McCoy. In fact, as she thought more about it, she realized how strange it was that neither of them had brought him up at all. So, she told Waters about how he was always asking her for any news about the rescue missions. "He's pretty miserable without you." At least, from what she'd heard from Kirk and, surprisingly, Chekov.

Waters scratched her nose and shrugged. "I'm sure he's managing just fine."

"As soon as we get back, I'm almost certain he's jumping ship to come see you," Nyota laughed, the image of it so clear in her head. Again, Waters just gave an unbelieving snort, careful to step around a thorny vine on the ground. "I'm not kidding. Kirk's probably got the paperwork to cover his tracks already filled out." Apparently, Nyota had touched a nerve, which was embarrassing, as she should've seen the signs of it and left the subject alone. She blamed the stress of the past day on her lapse.

Spinning around, Waters crossed her arms, her cheeks flushed with anger.

"Then why are you here and not him?"

Stopping short, Nyota tried to find a diplomatic way to answer, but found none. "Waters, I'm s -"

"Don't apologize!" She practically yelled, shutting her eyes. "It's not like its anyone's fault. It wasn't like he was going to pick me over, well, anything else, apparently."

Nyota thought she saw something flash in the trees behind them. "Waters -"

"And this whole time, I was worrying about him, but obviously -" Nyota stumbled back and fell on her back as a Maverian shrouded in white and green covered Waters mouth with his hand and put a knife to her throat. Three others approached at his side, all wearing similar uniforms. Waters froze in his grasp, and Nyota watched as the he pressed the knife a tad too hard on her skin. A trickle of blood dripped down.

The man holding Waters shouted something, looking straight at Nyota. She didn't understand, the words foreign, and she remembered, cursing herself all the while, that of course she wouldn't because they didn't have a universal translator.

"Please," Nyota said after the man yelled again, "I don't understand what you're saying." She held her hands up, hoping they would see that she was unarmed. After staring her down for what felt like a lifetime, he nodded at the Maverian on his right. Immediately, she was thrown face down in the snow, her right arm twisted behind her back, her left still taped to her chest. Under the pressure of the Maverian's knee, though, her weight crushed her arm, making her sob into the ground. It hurt, badly.

Someone patted down her uniform in what Nyota assumed was a search for a weapon. Finding none, the Maverian holding her pulled her up onto her feet, still twisting her right arm. The snow slid and melted off her face, and wracked with shivers, she faced Waters and the man still holding a knife to her throat. Nyota didn't say a word, but she matched his stare, and neither of them blinked.

Waters whimpered, causing Nyota to break the moment and see that the knife had been pressed further in.

"Please," Nyota said again, trying to move forward but ultimately being stopped by the other Maverian holding her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel sweat pool on her forehead, despite the cold.

As though a spell had broken, the man with the knife lowered it to his side, took the bag off Waters' back, and pushed Waters into her. Nyota stumbled at the impact, and the Maverian behind her stepped away from them, leading both Nyota and Waters to find themselves on the ground. In the fall, she had managed to land on her back, and Waters slid off of her, the blood from her neck staining the snow. For the briefest moment, she thought she had been mistaken, and that they really had slit Waters' throat. Eyes wide, Nyota shuffled into a crouch and turned Waters onto her back, all the while pressing her hand on the wound. Her blood was shockingly warm on her icy fingers.

Seeing that she had been mistaken, Nyota relaxed slightly, though shaking Waters awake. She must have fainted, but a few seconds later, her eyes blinked open.

The Maverians had been content to watch them up to that point, but as soon as Waters moved into a sitting position, they were again forced to their feet and marched eastward, she thought, but at the very least away from the shuttle site. Already having walked her fair share that day, Nyota honestly considered falling onto the ground and letting the Maverians do what they would with her. Each step caused pain to shoot up into her ankles and knees, and as the sun set, she was practically stumbling along, her eyes barely able to keep open.

They had tied Waters' hands behind her back and kept her on the opposite side of the group as Nyota. She kept glancing over, trying to catch her eye, but Waters was simply staring at the ground, and never made a move to look up. There was defeat in the slump of her shoulders and the frown of her profile, and Nyota thought that she would be little help in trying to escape.

If only Nyota had access to a universal translator, this whole situation might have been avoided, or maybe remedied. Without words at her disposal, and weapons at theirs, her odds fell on the side of abysmal.

It must have been hours later when they finally reached the cave where the Maverians had set up camp. A fire blazed at the entrance where a handful of other Maverians in similar uniforms laughed, none yet acknowledging their slow march towards them. Finally, one looked up, a bottle tipped up to her mouth. She spit out the drink, throwing the bottle to the ground and standing in a rush.

A turbulent exchange followed between the Maverian at the camp and the one who had held Waters. There was a lot of gesturing towards Nyota and Waters, and from what she could tell, Nyota gleaned that no one was very pleased with their presence. In the end, they were sat at the fire, and not a few hostile glares were being directed their way. The flames warmed her, though, and as long as she kept her own eyes pointed there, she didn't have to worry about accidentally starting another argument. Waters, she noticed, simply stared distantly at her own lap, her hands free from binding.

No one seemed in particular worried about restraining them any longer, which made sense when she considered the temperature, their lack of food or water, and their lackluster knowledge of the area. Nyota, for the moment at least, would hedge her bets of survival with the Maverians, no matter how slim.

After a long conversation on what Nyota thought could be a radio, the Maverian from the campfire approached them. She knelt down beside them and said something softly, catching Nyota's gaze. Shaking her head, Nyota tried to indicate her lack of understanding. The Maverian repeated herself a few times, but finally got up and left when Nyota could offer no response besides a shake of her head. Perhaps she had experience with Starfleet and expected Nyota to be able to understand her, as the Maverian didn't even allow a chance for introductions, which could really go a long way in establishing a line of communication, regardless of how bare, without a universal translator.

"Waters," Nyota said, her eyes trailing after the retreating Maverian, "do you know where we are?"

Continuing her dead stare, Waters just shrugged. Was anyone but Nyota even trying? After trying a few more times to talk to Waters and being met with only silence, Nyota glanced around. Some of the Maverians were watching them with a variety of expressions, but with so little known about them, Nyota could only hazard a guess that they were curious, but mostly irritated.

She managed to catch the eye of the Maverian who had held a knife to Waters' throat. Again, they stared each other down. Oddly, it didn't feel threatening, and after a time, he broke contact and moved out of sight. Slightly disappointed, Nyota turned back to the fire and listened to the flames crackle on the wood. Her front burned with heat, while her back burned nearly as intensely with cold.

Footsteps approached on her right side, and she saw with surprise that the Maverian had gone to grab a slate of some kind. He sat down next to her, and though she automatically felt the urge to shift away, she kept still. He dragged a small, cylindrical material along the slate, leaving behind three separate symbols. So they had a written language, but Nyota knew that already from reports back on Yorktown. In fact, the symbol looked almost familiar, although she didn't remember seeing any examples of the language in those reports.

He pointed at the letters, then himself, and said, "Haru."

Nyota smiled. She could work with this. After handing her the slate, Haru watched as she wrote her name. "Uhura," she said, mimicking his gesture. They tried a few other combinations, but she didn't learn much else besides the names of the head Maverian at the camp, which was Nal. Haru left her the slate, along with the written word for their continent, which she had known was Huan.

The longer she stared at the two letters that made Huan, the longer her brain wanted to make the connection in her memory. Something about it was so recognizable, and other parts so foreign. Maybe related to the Romulan language? With so little food or sleep, and with the warmth of the fire so close, she just couldn't keep a line of thought long enough to make any progress.

She dreamed again. This time the room was not one she had ever slept in, the walls painted a faint yellow, and when she looked out of the window, she saw Vulcan architecture and foreign flora. Bubbling water and the sound of chimes. Someone was here with her.

"Spock?"

No longer in Starfleet uniform but in Vulcan robes, he stood in the plain archway of this unfamiliar home. His, she hazarded a guess. He looked very at home here.

"It has been thirteen hours since you last slept. Do you remember what occurred?" He walked closer, meeting her by the window. Her head pulsed strangely, and she put a hand to her temple. Within moments, it was all coming back to her.

"How could I forget?" Nyota asked, folding her arms. The whole day had gone by, and she had just forgotten about their conversation. Maybe this really was just a dream, and she had created it, was creating it, to deal with the stress.

"Humans are psi-null, and though you would not likely forget a typical mind-meld, the minute details of it would not remain for long. And this is not a typical mind-meld. It is a state of dream transference." Spock's voice trailed, as it did when he found himself on a tangent. "These are almost unheard of between Vulcans, as dreams are uncommon in general, but for two bonded people to have one at the same time, and then share it, has been recorded only twelve times. To my knowledge."

Again, the sides of her vision blurred, and fearing the inevitable, Nyota grabbed Spock's robes. Her mind was startlingly clear, despite her physical state in reality. She summarized to the best of her ability. "I'm on Altamid. I found Waters, but a group of Maverians found us. They are armed. I don't know what their intent is, but overall, if not hostile, they certainly aren't friendly. Can you relay that to Yorktown?"

Spock nodded. "I issued my concern after our first transference. The captain informed me that a team had located a crashed shuttle slightly off course. Was this yours?"

She was already interrupting. "Yes. We weren't far from there before. We saw - " Like last time, everything blurred, the walls, the sound of the chimes, the color of Spock's robe. " - we saw Starfleet but had to leave."

"They will find you," Spock assured, but before she could determine if the promise was genuine, Nyota woke up.

Haru pulled her to her feet, and she stumbled as the slate fell to the ground. Looking around, she saw that Waters' hands had been bound again, and judging by the deep circles under her eyes, Nyota guessed that she hadn't slept much, if at all.

As diplomatic as he had been the night before, Haru's grip felt iron tight on her good arm. "Uhura," he said awkwardly and pointed in the direction of the Maverians marching away from them. They were walking, but, wasn't that the way they had came? "Starfleet." Haru spoke again, urging her forward. She went along, the mention of Starfleet leading hope to blossom in her chest. Maybe they were finally going home.

* * *

A/N: I can't apologize enough for how long this took to get out. I'll try to be better about updates in the upcoming weeks, so fingers crossed. Thanks to everyone who keeps reading, reviewing, etc. This story has taken me so much longer than my other two to write, but maybe as we wrap up, things will go more smoothly. Hoping you all made it through February intact and well!


	15. Chapter 15

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **Act IV**

 **Part 3**

They walked for hours before Nyota was sure. Their destination had to be the crash site. The bruises Haru had left on her good arm, the constant throbbing of her bad arm, the bitter cold leaking through the tears on her uniform, the sharp pain on her calves and knees from walking, even the ache in her throat from dehydration, she forgot it all when she saw a group of Starfleet officers flanking the shuttle.

Eilum stood among them, front and center. Nyota's lack of pain transcended into tangible relief. Eilum would get them out of this. She knew it.

The sun had reached a high point in the sky when they stopped around ten yards from the Yorktown officers. Eilum met her gaze, and Nyota swore she saw the quickest wink.

In the presence of a universal translator, Nyota could at last understand everything the Maverians were saying. Nal, the leader, walked forward in between the two groups. Eilum followed suit. "I have orders to release your officers once we have the agreement in writing," Nal said, her voice echoing across the field.

"I was expecting to meet with Jahu Baash." Who was that? Eilum looked around the group. "Why is he not here?"

"Because I am."

Impatience was palpable in Eilum's response. "I have not been authorized to negotiate with you. Federation law requires the signature of the planet's leader in order to -"

Nal made a sound which resembled a growl. "This is not a negotiation. We do not answer to your law. I will accept your retreat from our territory, you will take the last of your officers, and the contamination of your machines will be gone. Why must you complicate this?" Nyota fixated on the back of Nal's uniform, which was covered in more of the Maverian's letters.

They were familiar, and the answer was right there, if only she could -

"Then I will inform Commodore Paris of the changes and wait for orders to proceed," Eilum said. "In the meantime, I would ask that you return the two officers in your custody to me, immediately."

"Absolutely not," Nal responded.

"They require medical attention."

"They will manage."

"We were promised a meeting with Jahu Baash and two Starfleet officers returned, unharmed," Eilum said, her voice becoming more controlled and tight with every word.

"Promises can be broken," Nal threatened. Turning her back to Eilum, Nal darted her eyes between Nyota and Waters, who stood at the other edge of the group of Maverians. "We will release one of your people. We will keep the other until we receive the treaty. Who do you want?"

When Eilum took Waters without hesitation, it was as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. So long as Waters made it back to base alive, then she had finally completed what she had set out to do. All the lost crew were accounted for, and she had kept her promise to McCoy. She also got the smallest bit of satisfaction by proving Waters wrong. Starfleet _had_ found them.

At the same time, marching back into the nearby forest with the Maverians, Nyota couldn't help but turn her head and watch Eilum walk away with the others. A window of escape had closed for her, at least for now.

Again outside of range of a universal translator, Nyota could only assume Nal's frustrated speech was directed towards her captain. They met with another team of Maverians who had scouted out the meeting from above, and while the two groups mingled, Nyota rested a few yards away. Her muscles screamed, but her mind wandered.

Nal had mentioned an agreement to leave their territory. That wasn't news to Nyota, but Nal's comment about machines had caught her off guard. Envy of advanced technology, maybe fear? Or perhaps simply apprehension and caution? Although she knew Starfleet had received permission from the Maverians to search through their territory on the rescue mission, it was possible they simply preferred isolation from other species. They must have known about Krall's presence further north, and his actions and misuse of the planet's resources could reasonably predispose the Maverians to Humans, at the very least.

The letters still poked a sore spot in her brain. She had seen the ones that spelled Huan before, hadn't she? But where? Last night, she had considered a possible connection to the Romulan alphabet, but given more time to consider it, she realized that had been a mistake.

The simplest solution, the common denominator, what was the most likely? The closest planet was Gorad, but the Ghozgada's written language was extremely distinct. Still -

Of course. How could she not have seen it? It wasn't a perfect match. Time would have modified the language, simplified the combinations, but without a doubt, the first letter of Huan was nearly identical to one of the symbols found on the ancient stone from Gorad, the ones on the walls of Altamid's caves. The Khalada never disappeared from Altamid. They had never left, simply retreated into the caves, and they didn't call themselves gods, but Maverians. For some reason, they had left their technology behind, reverted to pre-warp level development. Could they really have been the creators of the drones, the abronath, and the caves? If so, why would they leave it all behind?

Besides, why wouldn't the Ghozgada know who the Maverians really were? Nyota racked her brain for what Leisel had told her about them. They were complicated, the first species they had met, and they had been unfriendly to the Ghozgada. Hundreds of years after first contact, could the Ghozghada be so ignorant as to never make the connection?

Impossible. Was there some factor Nyota missed? Something else that might make it impossible for the Maverians to be the Khalada, or something that would cause the Ghozgada not to see who they truly were?

Every time she thought she understood something about Altamid, it only generated more questions.

Haru had come to kneel in front of her and pulled something out of his pocket. The voices of the Maverians and the questions she had about them silenced instantly when he grabbed her hand and placed a Starfleet badge on her palm. The swirl for engineering stood out, though much of the metallic coating had been scratched away. A name, hardly legible, read on the back. Abigail Cole. One officer who no one had saved.

"Thank you," Nyota whispered. He wouldn't understand her words, but the meaning should have been clear enough. She examined the badge for a moment longer before tucking it away in her pocket. Despite its size, it weighed so heavily. After Haru walked away to join the others by a newly made fire, Nyota cursed her lack of a universal translator again. Questions about how he had come to have Cole's badge and why he had given it to her at all bit at her tongue

Another Maverian came by about an hour later to give her the water canteen from Waters' backpack. She tore off the lid and downed the last of its contents. When she had finished, she clutched it to her stomach. She couldn't take much more of this planet. It was killing her.

The cold had become numbing. She barely registered its presence.

To pass the time, she traced patterns in the snow and watched the sun descend towards the horizon. A sunset enveloped the sky, turning blue to gold. Twilight had set when Nal barked out orders, and Haru once again helped her to her feet and kept her good arm restrained. Hope blossomed in her chest again, freedom a few yards away.

As they made their way back towards the crash site, Eilum and three others approached from the opposite direction. Again, Nal and Eilum met in the middle, their voices carrying.

Eilum's eyes flickered over to Nyota once, as though assessing whether she was alright. She presented a physical stack of papers, handed them to Nal, and said in a formal tone, "By the authority of the Federation Council, I submit the terms of Starfleet's retreat from Huan within the next seventy-two ours, to be conducted by Starbase Yorktown and under the supervision of the Maverian government. This document also contains our terms of retreat from the remainder of the planet within sixty days. You will relay these documents to Jahu Baash, as we do genuinely require his approval to proceed."

Nal accepted the papers, handing it off to another of her group. "Very well. You may take the other officer and leave now," she said dismissively. Haru let go of her, and blood rushed back to her forearm. Nyota stumbled over to Starfleet's side. Could this be it? She passed Eilum, walked past the shuttle, but the thought of Rhodes' body stopped her just short of reaching the other three officers.

Looking back, she watched the Maverians return the way they had came. Eilum stood still, her back to Nyota, before she spun around and strode quickly over to her. "Well, Commander," she greeted, placing a hand on her shoulder and marching them both away from the shuttle, "it's been a long few days. I'm glad to see you back in one piece."

"Wait." Nyota dug her boots into the snow.

Clearly impatient, Eilum's hand never left her shoulder. "What is it?"

Nyota cleared her throat, the memory of the crash replayed before her eyes. "The pilot, his body -"

Eilum's grip softened and turned comforting. "We already took him home." She squeezed Nyota's shoulder. "And now we should go, too. Come on." Nyota followed the group about a mile away to another shuttle. As soon as they were on, Eilum gave the order for lift off. Within minutes, they had cleared Altamid's atmosphere.

Instead of helping Nyota buckle herself in, which proved much harder with one functioning arm, Eilum ordered Dr. Carson to take her to the back of the shuttle to start treating her injuries. She hadn't noticed Carson was even among the group who had been at the crash site.

"Is this your handiwork?" Carson asked with a bemused frown as she examined the tape holding her left arm to her chest. It had started to peel and freeze over the course of the last day or so.

Sitting on top of a kind of makeshift table, Nyota's teeth chattered. The shuttle's warm temperature burned her exposed skin, turning it from ashen to blotches of red and purple. "Not entirely. Did Waters already go back?" she asked.

Carson bent down and rifled through a medkit. "Their shuttle should've already docked at Yorktown. Hold on a second," she said, leaving for the main room. The doors slid shut behind her, leaving Nyota alone in the back.

She took out Cole's badge, ran her fingers over it. Her thumb swiped over her identification number over and over again. Why did her every victory always come at such a cost? Unexpected tears, warmer than even the shuttle, dripped from her frosty eyelashes.

It was Eilum, not Carson, who returned to the back room with an armful of blankets. "Carson's still looking for -" Eilum stopped short. Nyota could hardly see her sympathetic expression, her vision was so blurred. Without saying a word, Eilum wrapped the blankets around her back, and when she had finished, she leaned her head out of the door to tell Carson they needed a minute alone. She scraped a chair along the shuttle floor and sat in front of her.

She gently opened Nyota's clenched fist to reveal the badge.

"They gave it to me," Nyota said softly, showing the name of it. "Her family should have it."

"I'm sure they'll appreciate it." Eilum dropped her hands away, leaving Nyota to continue to move the badge around her palms. "You couldn't have done anything that would have changed what happened to her. I hope you know that."

But Nyota's tears continued to fall. She couldn't stop them. "I do."

"It doesn't change how you feel," Eilum guessed, and she spoke as though from experience.

Nyota shook her head. "No, it doesn't."

Eilum leaned forward, her hands returning to the badge resting on Nyota's. "Good." Surprised, Nyota looked up. "Grief isn't something that goes away. It grows in us, covers old wounds with new ones. It's taken me almost two lifetimes to learn that running away from that feeling only fuels it later down the road. Accept it, and know that it gives you strength."

Silence followed, the badge hovering like a star between them. Finally, Eilum stood, and Nyota wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. "I should let Carson have a look at you." Nyota nodded, trying not to let the embarrassment of her outburst bother her too much. "You didn't do anything wrong." Eilum said by the door. "I need you to know that, for my sake."

For Eilum's sake, then, Nyota agreed. "Okay."

Carson walked back into the room as Eilum was leaving, giving her a once over as she passed. "Don't think I forgot about you, Captain."

"I said I feel fine," Eilum answered, inching out of the room. When they were alone again, Carson brought a scanner up to Nyota's chest. She thought it was kind that she didn't mention how puffy her eyes were.

"What was that about?" Nyota asked.

Carson rolled her eyes. "There was a ... misunderstanding when we first found the crash site. The captain got hit by one of their weapons, but she claims she's fine." Clearly, Carson didn't agree, if her irritated frown was anything to go by.

As she relaxed back against the wall, Nyota wondered if all Starfleet captains were the same, stubborn to a fault.

At some point, she must have fallen asleep, because the next time she opened her eyes, she found herself on Earth. Specifically, in her bedroom in her parent's home. A sense of comfort surrounded her. This would always be home, always be a part of her.

Spock hovered near an old science project, a diagram of Earth's Solar System. His outline was harsh. The starkness of his uniform didn't quite fit here, not in the way she did. "This is overly simplistic," he said, looking back to face her. Nyota leaned her hip against her bedframe, trying not to smile at his critique.

"I was nine," she defended, holding up her hands. "The details weren't important."

"I disagree."

"Well I disagree with your disagreement." She smiled, but something wasn't right. The colors were too bright, and her head spun like she was in low gravity. She focused on him to ground herself. "Spock, has this happened before? Have we -" But she couldn't quite articulate what it was that she meant.

He nodded all the same, sitting on her bed. The quilt creased under him, the array of colors clashing with the plain black and blue of his uniform. "The dream transference has occurred twice." A dream? Yes, this was a dream. "This will be the third." The memories trickled in until Nyota understood.

"I'm on a shuttle back to Yorktown. They found us," she said, joining him on the bed. He nodded, staring at the wooden floor.

"That is good news."

A wave of gratitude crashed over her, and she a covered his hand with hers, both resting on the bed. "Thank you." He turned his head, an eyebrow raised in confusion. "It's because of you we were found so quickly."

Now the eyebrows clenched together, forming a line. "You called me here. You should thank yourself," Spock said, his voice subdued. He was unhappy.

"What's wrong?"

His hand slipped from hers, and he stood, smoothing out his shirt. "Nothing is wrong."

"You're upset." All she had done was thanked him.

No longer facing her, he stared once more at the science project. "You are no longer in danger."

"Isn't that a good thing?" she asked.

"Of course it is." He paused. "This will likely be the last transference." His hands clasped behind his back, the muscles of his fingers tensely weaved around each other, and without even seeing his face, Nyota could tell all she needed to know. "I am glad you are safe."

She stood and approached him from behind. The room blurred, and she knew there was little time left. She placed a single hand in between his shoulders. He tensed briefly, then relaxed. "I called you here," she began, her words hesitant, "but I'm already out of danger. I think I must have done it because I -"

Carson was shaking her shoulder. "Wake up, Uhura. You're home." Startled by the abrupt awakening, Nyota jumped, her head groggy. Her dream had been - oh, she couldn't remember. After her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked behind her out of the shuttle. They were docking at Yorktown, the twisting structure never more welcome.

Home.

* * *

Waters looked better than she had two days ago. The scar on her face had disappeared, her face and arms were clear of dirt and scratches, and she no longer had that distant look to her eyes.

When Nyota entered the hospital room, Waters and Uma were in the middle of laughing at some unheard joke. Waters spotted her first, sitting cross-legged on her biobed. Uma was turned away from her, so it took her another moment to realize Nyota had arrived. "Uhura," Uma said, still laughing, "how are you?"

"I'm good," she smiled, walking further into the small room.

In response, Uma beamed and stood. She carried a PADD and displayed it for Nyota to read. "They discharged me! They're letting me go back to _Enterprise_ next week, so long as a pass the psych eval. I'm rendezvousing at Deep Space 2." Her happiness was infectious, and when she hugged Nyota, it certainly wasn't unwelcome.

"Congratulations," she said as Uma squeezed her ribs with the same strength Nyota's mother reserved for homecomings. It left her a little breathless after the fact.

"Thank you for everything." Uma's eyes wandered to the side where Waters sat, watching them.

Nyota waved off the thanks. After a quick chat, Uma excused herself to grab something to eat. They were alone now, the two of them, and the indulgent smile Waters had been pointing at Uma drifted from her face. Nyota came forward and stood at the end of the bed. "It's good to see you. I tried to come by yesterday, but they said I had to wait. How are you feeling?"

Waters sighed quietly through her nose and shrugged. "Fine." The wound had long since healed and was probably the least of Waters' worries, but Nyota couldn't stop staring at her neck. She could see Haru's knife puncturing skin, the sight of her blood in the snow. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

Nyota shook off the memory and sat in the chair beside the biobed. "I went back on duty today, and it's the end of shift." Accepting the explanation, Waters settled back, fiddling with a padd Uma had left behind. They spoke briefly about the hospital and how Waters was feeling.

"It's different now. Being here." She sounded hollow, staring past Nyota out the window of the hospital room. "Did they really scrap the _Enterprise_?"

"Yes," Nyota said, her voice hesitant.

Waters nodded. She hadn't blinked. "We, Scotty and me, we rebuilt it the last time."

"I know you did."

Tears welled in Waters' eyes. Nyota had never seen her cry. "I really loved that ship."

"We all did." Nyota reached for her hand, but not for Waters' sake. Hearing her talk brought back old wounds, and she needed to steady herself before they spilled out. "I know this may not help right now, but there's another _Enterprise_." Waters shifted away, her expression shutting down. "It was never going to last forever. Maybe it's a good thing. A clean slate."

A frown marred Waters' face, the tears drying up. "Then why aren't you there? If it's so great."

There were so many possible answers to that question, and Nyota settled on the one that Waters needed to hear. "Because we don't leave anyone behind, not if we can help it." But Waters only shrugged in response. "What about when you pulled me from the shuttle?"

Frowning, Waters asked, "What about it?"

"Why even save me?"

"Well what was I supposed to do? Leave you there to ..." Waters trailed off.

Nyota leaned forward, hands on her knees. "Finding you was the only reason Kirk let me stay." Her eyes widened in disbelief. "It's all anyone ever asks me about anymore. Frankly, I'll be glad not to have ten unread messages from the _Enterprise_ every twelve hours with requests for minute by minute updates."

With narrowed eyes, Waters crossed her arms. "You're exaggerating."

"I wish I was." She pulled out her own padd, opened up her saved messages, and filtered by subject. Waters accepted the peace offering and scrolled through what Nyota knew was pages of requests. "Nobody forgot about you," she added. "Or the ship."

"This is too much," Waters complained in a sigh. She handed back the padd.

Nyota laughed in agreement. "Yes it is."

After a quiet moment, Waters began to pick at the biobed blanket covering her feet. "Uhura," she said finally, eyes darting back towards her, "are you going back?"

The question took her by surprise. "To the _Enterprise_?" Waters nodded. "Well, that was the plan. This was only ever meant to be a temporary assignment."

"It's strange." Waters considered her with a questioning look. "Seeing you in a different uniform."

"Well, it's strange seeing you in a hospital gown."

It was like a hard won prize when Waters finally smiled, even a little bit. "Give me a day or two. I'll force them to see reason."

"Of course you will."

Eager, Waters rocked forward. She spoke quietly and with a conspiratorial intent. "I happen to be very good at making Starfleet Medical very angry. Wanna help?" For a moment, it was like they were back on the ship together.

Brushing her hair over her shoulder, Nyota laughed. "I'd like to keep my commission, but thanks for the offer."

The smile on her face widened, touching the corners of her eyes. "I guess that's fair."

Distracted by lighter topics, Nyota ended up staying until Uma returned two hours later. She bid them both goodnight before heading towards the train. Harry's bar wasn't too far, and she wanted to talk to Eilum. They hadn't spoken since their shuttle had arrived back at Yorktown, and her epiphany about the Maverians sat uncomfortably. She had considered writing a report, but she still wanted to run it by Eilum first. The situation on Altamid, after all, wasn't going well.

It was still early enough that only a few customers had come into the place. Harry waved her over, and after exchanging a few polite questions, he gave her the code to the upstairs apartment. Their twins were sleeping over at a friend's house, so it was only Eilum at home. Nyota made her way into their living room, dodging misplaced toys and, surprisingly, a pan and a pot left strewn across the carpet. Eilum lounged on her couch, a padd inches from her face and a mug in her hand. A picture of a sailboat hung above her, and the waves of the sea were so detailed, she swore they might actually be moving.

"Captain?"

Eilum looked up, her face pale. "Hello. Did Harry let you up?" Inviting Nyota to sit down, Eilum also asked about her first day back on duty. When finally they had exhausted all the pleasantries, Eilum buried her face back into her padd, the light illuminating tired eyes. The apartment was oddly quiet, especially for being in downtown and above a restaurant and bar.

"I've been doing more research on the khalada language." Nyota reached across a crayon-stained coffee table to present her own padd. Taking a sip from the mug, Eilum scanned over it. "That's a comparison between the ancient Khalada and modern Maverian alphabets. You can see the similarities." Instead of excitement, Eilum only appeared to grow more exhausted.

"Where did you get this?"

Cocking her head, Nyota explained how she had communicated with Haru while on Altamid. She had redrawn the letters from memory, and though it would never be perfect unless she could access more classified files, she had done the best she could with such limited data. "I thought this was what you wanted me to do," Nyota said after watching Eilum continue to frown. She put down the mug, but kept Nyota's padd, and her free hand clutched at her side.

"You can't show this to anyone." She spoke breathlessly, and thought the lighting was dim, Eilum's skin had turned a worrying hue.

"Captain, are you alright?"

The padd slipped from Eilum's fingers into her lap, and Nyota jumped from her chair as Eilum hunched over and let out a cry of pain.

* * *

"Didn't think you would be back so soon."

Waters, who Nyota was pretty sure wasn't supposed to be out of bed, walked towards her. The strong scent of coffee, emanating from a disposal cup, came with her. It offered a strange comfort. "Neither did I," she admitted, moving along the bench to give Waters room to sit.

Sipping from her cup, Waters appraised her. "What's wrong?" she asked. Nyota explained that the first oficer of the station had collapsed unexpectedly, but she didn't say how Eilum clawing at her stomach still circled her thoughts or how she had to clasp her hands together in her lap to keep them from shaking. From the way Waters was looking at her, though, she didn't need to. "Well, you got her here pretty fast. Whatever's wrong with her will probably be sorted out by morning."

They fell into silence, but the hum of the waiting room filled the gap in conversation. Waters continued to down her coffee, and Nyota focused on the pristine tile beneath her boots. Was it really only a few days ago that they had been on Altamid together, trudging through the snow and shivering through their layers? Nyota glanced up at Waters. Almost a year she had spent there, yet here she was, cradling a coffee like she had everyday for years on their ship.

Bandages covered her fingers.

Waters noticed her staring and nodded towards them. "Doctor said something about nerve damage. They'll be all right in the end, I think," she tacked on absently. Something flashed in Waters's expression when she stared at the bandages, and though it disappeared in the next second, Nyota thought it might have been despair.

Glancing at the clock above the nurses station, she let out a sigh. "It's midnight." It had been over five hours since she'd arrived.

"Hmm." They chatted briefly about the starbase itself, as Waters was curious about the weather simulator, but they were soon interrupted by Carson's approach. Waters spied her walking over and stood. "I should probably get back to my room before someone notices I left. Stop by if you need to."

Carson replaced Waters in the spot beside her. The skin beneath her eyes was hollow and dark. "It's the blast that got her on Altamid," she said as a greeting. The weapon on Altamid? It must have been in the initial firefight that Nyota had seen with Waters before their capture. "I told her she needed to get checked out. She didn't listen, obviously."

"So what's next, you can treat it, can't you?" Even as she asked, Nyota sensed she wouldn't like the answer. She had never seen Carson so subdued.

"Their weapons aren't like ours." Carson pointed to her own abdomen. "It hit her in the side, where the symbiont is. It's reacting badly, rejecting the host body."

"Well what does that mean?"

It took too long for Carson to respond "The safest course of action would be to treat the symbiont separately and transfer it to a new host."

Her ears started to ring, but she nodded. "Okay. What are the other options?" But no answer came. Surely, she didn't mean that they were actually going to do that? "There have to be other ways to fix it," she insisted. "If you remove the symbiont, then Eilum dies. That's how joined Trills work, right? And who would you even transfer it to? The only other Trill on the station is Theus." She stopped. No. They couldn't do that.

"She won't listen to me." Carson shook her head. "I could try to perform surgery before attempting to rejoin them, but she won't risk the symbiont. There's not enough time to take her to Trill, where they might be able to do more. If she wasn't so stubborn..."

"That's ridiculous," Nyota said. "She has to at least try." Carson shrugged, and the whole situation started to truly sink in. Panic and anger and desperation swirled, and she wanted to storm through the hospital and demand something be done. This was real. Eilum could die, so why wasn't anyone doing anything? "Let me talk to her. Please." And if that sounded like begging, it wasn't on accident.

Carson nodded and told her she would let her into Eilum's room as soon as she could. The minutes dragged on, and all the while, Nyota sat there with frustration building and building, up and up. She tapped her foot and shook her leg and tugged at her hair, but it wasn't enough. She started to pace, and people stared. Who cared? She was sure she had scuffed up the tile beyond repair by the time Carson sent someone to come get her.

After winding through identical hallways half a dozen times, Nyota paused outside a plain door. What would she say? Bravado had propelled her to this point, but nervousness soon took up residence alongside it. Who was she to involve herself? She wasn't Eilum's friend, she wasn't her family, and in a month or two, she wouldn't even work with her.

But in all her time at Yorktown, she hadn't done enough, and it was shameful. She knocked on the door and took a deep breath when Eilum called her in. Everything needed to change. She would start here.

Thoughts of reasonable arguments, though, left her. Eilum was lying there, so calm, as though her life wasn't on the line. Had something changed between her talk with Carson and now? She sat down at Eilum's direction, but the serenity of the scene jarred her to the point of being speechless. "Harry has a saying about a deer in the headlights. I've never seen a deer," Eilum admitted, "but I imagine you look a bit like one right now." Harry. How had she forgotten about Harry? He couldn't be alright with this. There was no way anyone would let their partner die when it was avoidable.

No one could be okay with this, and that afforded Nyota some much needed confidence. She took another deep breath. "Carson said you were refusing surgery."

Eilum snorted. "I am not." Nyota relaxed until she spoke again. "I'm choosing the less risky surgery, which means that I'll die. Well, this body will, but the symbiont will live." She said it dispassionately, and gestured towards herself in a flippant manner.

Nausea gripped her, and she had to fight to keep what little dinner she had eaten down. So Eilum was serious. "Theus?" Nyota whispered his name, thinking of the young engineer. He couldn't even use a comb properly, and he was supposed to do this?

"I already spoke with him. He knows what he needs to do." Eilum smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "The survival of the symbiont is all that matters, and it won't if we wait for Trill to send someone to us."

"The survival of the symbiont?" she repeated, but disbelief caused her to stop. Placing a hand on her chest, where her heart pounded a thousand times a minute, Nyota swallowed and closed her eyes. "What about you? You're okay with dying?"

"The symbiont will carry my memories to the next host. It's not as though - " Nyota recoiled at Eilum's hand on her arm. "What's wrong?"

Nyota blinked in disbelief. It was as though they were having two separate conversations. "Why are you doing this? You aren't even going to try?" Her last question set off a fire in Eilum's eyes. She had hit a nerve.

"And what happens if I risk everything on this?" Eilum's voice dropped, no longer the practiced calm from before. "The symbiont could die. Everything I've worked towards, everything I've felt and experienced, it's all gone. This is only Eilum's second life. I won't let my legacy be destroyed on a whim."

"What about your family?" Nyota argued. Theus couldn't be a mother to her children or a partner to Harry. What would happen to the bar or the twins or the whole starbase? Her head spun with the possibilities, each as dreadful as the next.

"My family is not your concern." Eilum frowned.

"You're giving up. I don't understand." She thought she might really throw up.

"It's not giving up. I'm simply making the best decision I can given the very real likelihood that both Mazia and Eilum will die. Then nobody wins. At least this way, I give the symbiont a chance."

No. No, she wouldn't accept that. Nobody should.

"It's not about you!" Nyota exploded. All the months of pent up frustration and self-loathing were directed at the captain, and yet it was like talking to herself at the same time. "One thing goes wrong, and you'll just leave like that. Because you think - " She reigned in her rage and quieted. "You think the symbiont is more important because the symbiont is your legacy, but that's not true. The people you leave behind are your legacy, and all they'll remember is how you chose to go when you didn't need to. It's cruel."

Was what she had done in leaving the _Enterprise_ cruel? In leaving Spock?

The tension between them peaked. "And you're out of line, Commander. Go." Nyota stood, her chair scrapping the floor, but her chin held high. She knew she was right, and Eilum knew it, too. Finally, Eilum's anger matched her own. "This is it. This is all you want to say to me, after everything I've done for you?"

An urge to shake Eilum, to make her see, overtook her. Her fists clenched at her side. "There's no reason why this should be the last thing I say to you. I'm here, I'm saying these things, because of what you've done for me. Don't you see that?" Eilum fell silent, staring at her with an imperceptible mix of emotions. "I think you're being irresponsible and selfish. You have a family to take care of, and you have a starbase to run. So get yourself together, get surgery for _yourself_ , and do whatever it is you have to do to get back on your feet as you." Nyota memorized the way her spots dotted the sides of her face and the way her hair fell on her shoulders. "And Theus deserves his own life, so how dare you try and do to him what they did to you. I know you didn't want the symbiont. Do you think he does?"

She had nothing more to say. So, despite Eilum calling her name in an increasingly furious tone, Nyota left.

* * *

A/N: This was supposed to be posted much sooner, but some technical difficulties prevented me from doing so. Should have more chapters up in the next week or two. Thanks for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **Act IV**

 **Part 4**

She didn't know it was snowing until she took her first step outside the hospital. On Altamid, it had snowed furiously, all at once or not at all. Here it was barely more than rain. Soft puffs of it clung to her uncovered hair, and she smiled despite herself. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, she watched them fall. It was practically pitch-black, but the light from a streetlamp illuminated the whirling patterns of snow as it flew down.

How could anyone give this up? Eilum was out of her mind for even considering it.

For a few quiet moments, Nyota basked in the magic of snow on a starbase, but the onset of shivers urged her to her quarters. Upon arriving, she ordered the computer to shut off the lights. The room glowed in the darkness. She hadn't slept in her own bed for months, and it laid undisturbed, made in a haste. She leaned against the wall closest to the door and sighed through her nose.

This was such a lonely place. Her sister had brightened it briefly, but that had faded as soon as she had gone. A sense of absence had been there all along, but she had known it. Thought that she could overcome it.

She had been a fool.

Pushing off from the wall, she went to the bathroom and shed her clothes. The sonic shower calmed her frayed nerves and warmed her chilled skin. Brushing her teeth, she avoided the mirror, staring at the tile of the sink. She already knew that no number of showers could fix the exhaustion etched in her face. Sleep could, but she doubted she would, all things considered.

The replicated tea steamed, and she waited for it to cool as she sat at her desk. The snow picked up. Frost took up residence on her window, and she grabbed a blanket from her bed to wrap around herself. She drummed her fingers to the tune of a new orchestra piece from Earth while she waited. It sounded like Spring.

Some time must have passed because she jerked at the bell chime of her padd. It was still dark out, but her tea was cloudy and long cooled, and no more music played from her speakers. She righted herself and saw a message from Carson. _I don't know if it was me or you or Bell or Harry or the aligning of the damn stars, but she changed her mind. I'll let you know how it goes._

Relief shot through her so rapidly she had to tell herself to breathe. So Eilum wasn't completely insane after all.

And Nyota wasn't just a fool. She knew what she had to do to make things right, though she'd have to bide her time until her ship swung around and got her. A few more weeks wouldn't hurt, and hadn't he promised he would wait?

* * *

Whoever had assigned her a civilian apartment ought to be fired. Nyota dodged a family of five in matching sneakers as she squeezed into the turbolift and pressed the button for the seventh floor. Waters belonged in Starfleet quarters, regardless of any extenuating circumstances, and the idea that someone had put her there made her silently fume.

As far as Nyota knew, Waters hadn't left her room since Uma waved them all goodbye on her shuttle to Deep Space 2, only a day after Waters' discharge from the hospital. She had to at least be going to the out patient clinic, but beyond that, no one was sure. All of Nyota's devices constantly rang with incoming messages from worried crewmates. Not only had Waters isolated herself from the few people she knew on the base, apparently she'd never once contacted anyone from the ship. The whole debacle would have been easier to fix if her quarters weren't halfway across the largest starbase in the Federation.

She'd waited a week to visit, trying to respect a need for privacy and space. The sentiment had been misplaced.

The hallway was lined with light wooden laminate flooring and bright lights. She strode down it, searching for the right number. She rang the right door once with no answer. So she rang it again, waited, then another time, waited, until finally, the sound of shuffling feet approached.

A wave of heat hit her as the door slid open. Waters uncrossed her arms when presented with a large cup of coffee. Everyone had their weaknesses.

Nyota took a step forward. "Can I come in?" More focused on the coffee, Waters moved back into the small apartment, allowing her entry.

It had the same flooring as the hallway, but the lights had been dimmed, and the heat was sweltering. The bed looked untouched, but the couch in the corner had a pillow and blanket tossed on it. A holovid played on silent in front the only window. Other than the couch, the place was spotless. It didn't look lived in, which was somehow worse than the mess Nyota had been expecting.

"Would you mind turning down the heat?" She turned back to face Waters, only to find her staring at the coffee. "Is it okay? It's just black." At the hospital, that's always how Waters had preferred it.

Yet, Waters placed it on the dresser with an uninterested expression. "No, it's not that. I don't really want it, but thank you." She scooted the coffee further down, and as though to put more distance between it and her, walked over and sat on the couch. Nyota followed.

She tried not to let too much of her shock show. When had Waters ever turned down coffee? "That's okay," she said. Waters stared expectantly. "Do you want to go out somewhere?"

"Where?"

Nyota shrugged. "Anywhere. Food. Drinks. There's museums here, and some parks. Bars." No suggestion caused any kind of reaction.

"I don't feel like going out." The holovid's credits began to roll. Names flickered by, capturing Waters' attention more than she did.

Undeterred, Nyota swung the bag from her back and pulled out a container. Gaila had always done this to cheer her up. "When's the last time you painted your nails?"

"I'm not sure. Middle school?" Waters asked herself. She shook her head absently. "I don't think I want to, but you're welcome to paint away."

Her concern grew, but Nyota laid out the tiny bottles onto the floor and arranged them in a mismatched pattern. She sat down in front of them, and Waters watched from above. "Alright then. What color?"

"Does it matter?"

There was too much apathy, too much disinterest, and it was too hot. Clenching her jaw, Nyota picked up a violet bottle and examined the color in the light of the window. "It does to me." In the end she picked turquoise, and Waters turned down the heat a few degrees. It was better not to put off the heart of the matter. Rubbing the bottle in her palms, she said, " You know people have been messaging you."

"Yes." Glancing through her eyelashes, Nyota saw Waters clasp her hands together and fidget.

"It's okay not to want to answer." The paint was cold as it brushed her nail. She started to apply the second coat when Waters spoke again.

"I don't know what they want me to say." She wrapped herself in the blanket.

Nyota shook her head. "Probably they want to know you're alright."

"That should be fairly obvious at this point." Rearranged onto her side, Waters stared at her work. "That's a pretty color."

"I think so." She admired her handiwork before carefully closing the bottle. "Listen, I can tell Scotty a thousand times that you're alive and well, but until he hears it from you, it won't mean anything." At the mention of the chief engineer, Waters stiffened. "Just shoot everyone a quick hello. It doesn't have to be more than that."

Shaking her head, Waters muttered, "I can't."

"Why not?" she asked as gently as she could manage.

Waters sat up and threw the blanket off. "I don't know." She stared down at her lap. "I'm bored."

"So come hang out with me. Sulu's husband lives on the station. He'd have us both over for dinner, and you could meet their daughter." When Waters shot down those ideas as well, Nyota brought out the other thing from her bag. She got up and handed the padd to Waters.

"Earth?"

The nail polish bottles fit neatly back in their containers. "I already arranged for Carol to pick you up." Another name that caused Waters to shrink back into the couch. "It'll be good for you to go home. You need to go home for a little bit."

"Why?"

Nyota looked around the room. "You can't stay in here forever. It's not good."

"I'm okay," she insisted, walking Nyota to the door.

No, she really wasn't. "At least think about it. Carol's really excited to see you."

"Have a good evening, Uhura." Waters leaned against her door. Frustrated that she couldn't make Waters do anything, Nyota simply returned a goodbye. Before she left, Waters added, "Oh, and I heard about your captain. I'm glad she's okay."

Names really could knock the wind out of a person. "It's good news." She smiled tightly and waved, hoping on all the stars that Waters would get the hell out of that apartment.

* * *

Work had collected in her absence, and she spent most days tirelessly responding to bureaucrats of every Federation planet, and then some. The others in her small department were happy to see her, but in all honesty, the place mostly ran itself. Her not being there had made little difference except in the workload distribution. It reminded her of how much she preferred the _Enterprise_ , but lately, most things were doing the exact same thing.

Eilum had returned to duty yesterday, and while Nyota regretted the strain in their personal relationship, their professional one had also suffered. While still in the hospital, Eilum had officially refused to accept her report about the khalada language and had ordered her not to publish it anywhere. Questions still burned on her tongue, primarily in regards to why, but she had been offered no explanation.

Theus visited during lunch, and he seemed more a part of her department than Nyota did. She watched him through new eyes. What would it have been like if he had taken on the symbiont? Would he still wear unpolished shoes, not comb his hair? He had so much nervous energy, but he expressed it in endearing ways, like being overly polite or precise in his work. That might have changed. Everything might have been different.

But it wasn't. A sense of betrayal on his behalf lingered, though. It was irrational and misplaced, but she couldn't help it.

When he left and lunch finished, everyone returned to work, but her legs bounced under her desk. How had she stood this for months? Without even Altamid's mysteries as a distraction, time slowed to a halt. She swore an hour had passed, but the computer showed only minutes. Once she had been the last to leave, this time she was first. She usually took pride in dedication to her work, but she couldn't find it in herself to care anymore.

The lift reached the ground floor, and Nyota walked towards the exit only to receive a summons from Eilum, like she knew how much Nyota wanted to leave and forced her to stay out of spite. Trying not to drag her feet, she got back in the lift and rode it all the way to the command center. This could either be about how she acted before the surgery, or the report, or maybe just a chat. She never knew with Eilum.

"Doing alright, Uhura?" Bell stood aside for her to exit. He held a stack of padds reaching his chin and maneuvered around her into the lift. She offered to help him carry them wherever he was going, but he declined. They parted ways, and Nyota returned at a snail's pace towards Eilum's office. She stood in front of the door and took a few deep breaths. It was like the hospital all over again. The same knot of uncertainty formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down and rang for entry. Eilum called out for her to come in.

Someone must have tidied up the place, but it couldn't have been Eilum. She thrived in the mess. The floor was spotless, the desk clear, and a coat rack had been placed in the corner. There were pieces of clothing actually on the rack. It was a miracle.

Eilum pulled a mug from the replicator by the window and waved her over. "Here." She placed it in Nyota's hands. "A peace offering."

Raising an eyebrow, her uncertainty faded. "Are you feeling better?" Eilum grabbed her own mug, and they took seats across from each other at the desk.

"Never better." Eilum sipped her drink. "The recovery went better than expected, if Carson's to be believed."

Nyota put her own on the desk. "You make it sound like she's not."

With a sly smile, Eilum shrugged. "If you'd known her in the Academy, you wouldn't believe a word she said either."

"You knew each other from before you were Joined?" Nyota asked, her curiosity from earlier peaking.

"Apparently, she liked me better back then." The smile widened into a grin. "I disagree entirely, of course. I cared far too much for what everyone else thought of me, and I let Carson tell me what to do. She almost got me expelled." Seeing Nyota's questioning look, Eilum laughed. "It involved the release of several Andorian farm animals into a chemistry lecture. We had valid reasons, I think, but I can't remember them for the life of me. I'm sure we were justified, though the student disciplinary board disagreed."

"It was her idea?" Somehow, Nyota doubted it was all Carson. Judging by the mischievous crease of Eilum's eyes, she was right.

"In my old age, I may have forgotten. I'm over a hundred, after all." Her voice grew quiet, and the smile drooped back into a straight line. Nyota steeled herself. "What you said to me, before the surgery -"

She couldn't help but interject. "I was out of line, I know, but the only thing I'll apologize for was what I said at the end. About Theus and yourself. It was a guess, and I said it to hurt you."

"Well, you were spot on, so it was a good guess," Eilum said without humor. "It helped put things in perspective. I'll be the first to admit I wasn't thinking about him in that moment. It's so ingrained to put the symbiont first, I forgot how terrified I felt when I was in Theus' place. I didn't think I'd be me anymore." She shrugged. "He's a good kid. I think I told you I knew his mother. She died when the _Enterprise_ crashed on Earth four years ago now, I think. She had just stopped by to visit him because he'd still been in the Academy. Small universe, huh?"

Nyota's throat closed shut. That had been a bad year in a lot of ways. It wasn't the worst of the thirty she'd lived, but in the interim of rebuilding the ship, everything had been in the air, and so many people had died. "He's very good at his job. She must have been proud of him, even when he was a cadet."

Eilum's smile returned. "Yes, she was." Looking towards the window, she fell silent.

There was nothing Nyota could say that would be appropriate, so she let the silence fill the room for a minute. It was a comfortable kind of quiet like one that could settle between friends. She still wondered though, and so she had to ask. "What changed your mind about the surgery, in the end?"

Her smile pulled tight on the corners of her mouth. Eilum didn't look away from the plaza below. "My kids. I know other people who could leave their children behind if it meant doing what was right for the symbiont, but I guess I'm not one of them." She paused, and the smile reached her eyes. There was wistful note in her voice. "They're so young." The twins were still in elementary school. It made Nyota ill to think what would have happened to them, to grow up without their mother. It could've been her fault. "Let's put the whole thing behind us, okay?" Eilum said. "All's forgiven."

Nodding, Nyota agreed, though forgiving could be such a tricky thing to do. Another lull in the conversation prompted her to bring up Altamid. "Why can't you accept my report?"

Their recent accord disappeared in an instant, and she could practically see walls being rebuilt. Eilum busied herself with a padd from her desk. "It's complicated. I would tell you if I could, but my hands are tied. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough."

"I don't follow."

Eilum shrugged. "The Enterprise should be back in a couple of weeks. Things should make more sense then."

Sensing the futility of pushing the issue, Nyota accepted the answer. "You know, it's funny. I expected an argument about my leaving."

It made Eilum laugh, and wave her padd in the air. "Nothing I said convinced you to take this job, I doubt anything I could say would make you keep it." She eyed Nyota's raised brow, and in return, mimicked the gesture. "Oh, come on. If we're both being honest, my pitch was a long shot, and I didn't expect you to give it a second thought once you'd left. The only person that made you stay here was you. I think it was a good decision. Maybe you disagree, seeing as how you're leaving, but I think you made good use of your time."

And disagree she did. Eilum was a force unto herself. She did, begrudgingly, admit to herself that it was more than probable she had talked herself into staying than Eilum, but it wasn't as though she had nothing to do with it. Or had she? Either way, Nyota wasn't sure whether to thank Eilum for the experience, or curse her for all eternity. Now on her way out, she could admit with some humor, "Everything fell apart."

Waving her hand, Eilum took both their mugs to the replicator. "You're being too hard on yourself. There were a lot of things outside of your control. The ones that you could control, you excelled at."

Nyota admitted to Eilum's back. "I wasn't happy here." It was liberating to say it out loud.

"I think that has less to do with this place," Eilum told her as she returned to the desk, "and more to do with you."

If she had let Spock stay with her at Yorktown, would it have seemed so bad? Or if she had taken an assignment here after the fiver year mission? She imagined her feelings toward the situation would have been radically different. "You're probably right."

"Of course I am," Eilum said, sitting cross-legged in her chair. "You're always welcome back here."

Maybe in a few years, Nyota would want to come back. "You're a good captain, Eilum." She meant it wholeheartedly, and she was glad they could part ways without bitterness.

With a snort, Eilum spun in her chair. "Of a starbase. Someday, in some future lifetime, someone better give me a ship."

* * *

A/N: Wow an actual post not months after the last one? I'm practically on a roll. :*) And so ends the fourth part. Finally, we're getting to the last act of the story. It's only taken an actual year. So, because of that, I really want to thank everyone who keeps reading, giving feedback, and all. It's kept me going, and I hope this all wraps up in a satisfying way.


	17. Chapter 17

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **ACT V**

 _I have no voice to say how high_

 _my fingers must lift as if on a lover's upper lip,_

 _to take in the breath of how high my mountain is—white teeth behind_

 _a snow cap, numberless springs, cold like the enzymes in spit—_

 _a version of me is still asleep: the moving of a limb in sleep._

 _Everything becomes lucid._

 _-_ Clifton Gachagua, Mountain

 **Part 1**

The _Enterprise_ arrived in the morning to much less fanfare than when they'd left. The room where Nyota, Ben, and Demora waited was mostly empty, though a few other people milled around speaking in hushed tones. Several benches sat around a tiled fountain, and a large screen above them announced official shuttle arrivals and departures in rows. The windowed ceiling opened up into the docking port. She spotted the underbelly of the ship first, sleek gray lines slowly pressing into view.

It was funny. She'd forgotten how different it looked.

Ben pointed up, catching Demora's attention. "There it is. Look!" As she'd been asking every ten minutes when they'd come, Demora predictably went into an excited dance of jumps and kicks. Docking procedures usually took another half an hour to complete, and Sulu could hardly leave before then, so soon enough the questions returned.

Nyota's right knee kept shaking, despite three separate attempts to still it. She wasn't nervous, exactly. Apprehensive would be a better word. She busied herself with talking to Ben, but he grew increasingly quiet the longer they waited. She was sure he didn't even notice it himself, but when he'd started answering with only monosyllables and nods, she left him alone.

As the first group left the ship, a few familiar faces passed her by. Some waved. It wasn't until the senior officers came out that she stood. Demora was already dragging Ben behind her, marching over to Sulu. Nyota knew the instant he noticed them because his relaxed gait beside Kirk turned into a jog. He practically collided with his family.

Nyota was so focused on the scene that she yelped when Chekov lifted her into a hug. Where had he come from? "Uhura." He swung her around in a circle, laughing. "Never go away again. They all bully me when you're gone." His laugh was contagious, like the sound of a catchy song, and her nerves melted away.

"Who bullies you?" she asked once he'd set her done and given her a moment to breathe.

His eyes practically twinkled. "Everyone."

"Lighthearted teasing," Kirk interrupted, dodging Chekov to hug her in a much less dramatic fashion. "It's good to see you again." She returned the embrace. He moved away and put an arm around Chekov's shoulder. "He's really exaggerating, though. We make fun of him only once or twice a shift."

Chekov glared under his arm. "No one defends me, except sometimes Mr. Spock." The room was filling with people and conversation. She had to lean forward to hear, but she laughed when she did.

Picturing the puppy eyes Chekov must have thrown at Spock to get him to intervene, she asked, "Only sometimes?"

"Oh, you know him, a stickler to the Prime Directive." Kirk winked. "Speak of the devil," he nodded to his left.

And there he was. Spock walked to their small group with the same single minded purpose of a soldier marching into battle. Why was he so stiff? Kirk, still keeping his arm around Chekov, inched them both off to the side. Not far away enough not to eavesdrop, Nyota noted with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, but enough to give the illusion of privacy.

Before she could even begin to worry about the right way to say hello, he said, "I need to speak with you. Alone." Eyebrows drawn, hands balled in fists, his eyes darkened.

In the thousands of scenarios on how their first meeting in months would go, Nyota had never imagined this. He wasn't angry, but he wasn't friendly. The shock of it prevented her from identifying the emotion right away. When she did, she relaxed. What was he worried about? "We could go to my quarters," she offered.

He nodded once. "That is acceptable." She led the way, and he followed a half-step behind her. Thankfully, she didn't live too far away, but the ten minute walk of silence gave birth to a whole new set of dismaying possibilities. Someone had died. He was sick. Or he had met someone new. That last one stuck in her mind, gluing itself at the forefront of her thoughts. Her hands shook.

When they arrived, he stood, statue-like, in between her desk and the bed. She remained near the door. "This is difficult to articulate, but necessary to explain." He would not look at her. Worry grew. "In principle, I should have told you at the earliest possible date. I hesitated. It did not seem right to keep this from you, but it also did not seem right to tell you unless I could do so in person."

She crossed her arms. It had to have been someone on the ship. He wouldn't look so guilty if it had been a stranger. Sinking betrayal set in, and it should have been funny. What right did she have to feel betrayed after pushing him away for so long? "Please just tell me." Better to get it over with now. It would be like ripping off a band aid.

"It would be more efficient to show you," he said, and he held up a hand to make his meaning more clear. A mind meld?

"Absolutely not." She wasn't jealous by nature, but even she had limits.

Rejection flashed in his expression for the briefest moment before smoothing into neutrality. "I anticipated this possibility, so I recorded our encounters in detail after the fact." He offered her a padd from his bag, and she accepted it with a limp grip. This could not be happening. "I cannot help my own biases, but I attempted to be as objective as possible."

Nausea bubbled, threatening to force her into the bathroom. She was deluded to think this couldn't have happened. "I don't want to read this," she said.

He blinked. "Very well." Then he continued in one long breath. "On Stardate 2264.348, you crashed on Altamid aboard a shuttle originating from this starbase. The pilot died on impact, but you survived the crash. Lieutenant Waters discovered you and brought you to a nearby cave. You fell asleep. I was also sleeping at the time, but soon found myself sharing a dream-state with you. I did not instigate this contact. As this transference was solely between the two of us, it follows that you must have initiated it, though because of your innate inability as a member of a psi-null species, it also follows that it was unintentional. Neither of us are at fault; however, this occurred two subsequent times, the last one on Stardate 2264.350, when you were on route back to Yorktown."

"I'm sorry, but what are you talking about?"

"This is precisely the problem. You could not retain memories of the transference. Given these circumstances, the burden to inform you of what had transpired between us fell to me, and should have occurred promptly following your return to safety. I instead believed it more appropriate to initiate a consensual meld at our next face to face meeting, which is now."

She had difficulty understanding what exactly was happening, but she was positive that it was about no one but the two of them. The dread in her heart lifted. "So we melded, from far away, and I don't remember because it happened while I was dreaming. You feel guilty because you think you should have told me sooner?"

He shifted his weight, hands loosening at his sides. "I do not feel guilty. I am merely concerned about the ethical implications of -" He cut off when she started to laugh. She closed the distance between them and smiled up at him, placing a hand on his cheek. She gave him time to step away, to reject the contact. He did not. A wave of fondness overtook her.

"Hello, Spock."

He looked at her like she was the most illogical creature in the whole universe. "Have we not already greeted one another?"

"No, actually." She dropped her hand away, but the smile stayed. "How are you?"

"That is entirely unrelated to the subject at hand."

"Yes, it is." She waited for him to answer her question, and he did, after a long stretch of silence.

"I am well. It is also good to see you again." Impatience shone in his curt tone, but it widened her smile nonetheless.

She considered the padd in her hands. "Right. It would be more efficient to show me, you said?"

"Yes."

There was no apprehension when she lightly grabbed his wrist. "Okay, then. Show me what happened." So he did.

In a movement so familiar she didn't even flinch, his fingers landed on her cheek and temple. A tentative meld formed, soon sparking into a stronger connection. It settled comfortably between them, and the bond stretched from months of disuse. She could feel the determined path of his thoughts. They moved together through the neat lines of his memory, though occasionally she became distracted by an overheard piece of ones he preferred to keep private. She was sorry. She didn't mean to pry. He knew. Was that his mother? Yes. She was so young. Yes. He had her eyes.

What a bittersweet reminder. Was it possible to feel a mind smile and frown at the same time?

He led her to a memory that she was in, but didn't recognize. It didn't look like a dream, after all, and those were their quarters.

But it was a dream. See.

" _I'm on Altamid. My arm ..._ " A grimace. A faint sense of pain. A chill that set in under the skin.

" _You are in danger. Tell me_." Panic. Visceral fear. Struggling for control. He had to keep the dream-state stable. He couldn't. He didn't know how.

She remembered now. Did she understand why he had waited to tell her? Of course she did.

He should have told her. But she didn't care because he was telling her now.

He cared. She didn't mean to dismiss his feelings. Moral objections, he corrected. To his own actions? Self-criticism was a natural part of existence as a sentient being. She was amused. Why? Because of how right he always was.

In the next dream, he had brought her to his father's mother's home on the edge of an unforgiving desert. His grandmother had built the house herself after the passing of her mate to illness. Though she preferred solitude, she had always welcomed Spock's company. She found him a stimulating conversation partner, even as a child. It was likely a lie, a kindness.

Vulcans didn't lie, and it was more likely that his grandmother simply loved him.

He spent holidays there when not on Earth for his father's work duties. She remembered. He was glad his grandmother had not lived to see her home destroyed. So was she. He missed that house. She wished she could have seen it in person.

She kept a garden, his grandmother. Sometimes, he helped pick the tea leaves that grew by the window.

" _The captain informed me that a team had located a crashed shuttle slightly off course. Was this yours?_ " Impatience. He should be there.

" _Yes. We weren't far from there before. We saw - we saw Starfleet but had to leave._ " A fading hope.

That knife at Waters' throat, and the blood staining the snow. If she had died then ...

Then what?

Then she would have had to carry her body over all that land. She would not have left her behind. He knew. It was the principle of it. He agreed.

Did he know Abigail Cole? He knew she preferred afternoon shifts on the _Enterprise_. He had signed off alongside the name James Kirk on the condolence letter to her family. It was the principle of it. She agreed.

There was one last time. They were in Nyota's room, lavender walls holding all the promise of her childhood. She thought one of her aunts had sown the quilt on her bed. He recalled seeing it on his last visit. How were her parents? They were fine. Kamau and his wife had a daughter, had she told him? Yes, she had. Her name was Halima, and she was so perfect. She was her niece, and genetically, she was predisposed to affection towards her. Maybe that was true, but the baby was in some ways his niece, too.

" _It's because of you we were found so quickly._ " Gratitude.

He was not related to Halima. No, but genetics didn't make a family. He would always be a part of hers.

" _You called me here. You should thank yourself_." Frustration. Shame. His father had always criticized his telepathic abilities, and in the face of imminent danger, he could not even stabilize a meld. He could not even understand it.

" _What's wrong?_ "

" _Nothing is wrong_."

" _You're upset._ "

It was childish for him to resent the fact that, " _You are no longer in danger._ "

He, too, considered her a part of his family. She had never doubted that.

" _I am glad you are safe._ "

" _I called you here, but I'm already out of danger. I think I must have done it because I -_ "

Because she?

Wasn't the answer obvious? She loved him. And she had missed him, and she thought she might die, and the only person she had ever wanted to spend her life with lived light years away. Could he blame her for, even accidentally, calling him to talk one last time, just in case the worst scenario came about?

He had offered to stay. She had told him to leave.

Well, he had hurt her, and she had wanted to be left alone.

And now?

Wasn't the answer obvious?

Yes, he supposed it was.

Dizziness accompanied the loss of the meld and his touch. She wasn't used to the sensation anymore, and dark spots danced in her vision. Only one set of thoughts remained in her mind, and they were her own, but something akin to an afterimage lingered. She steadied herself by leaning against him. "Was it always so disjointed?"

"No, not always," he answered. She was viscerally aware of how tired he was.

Taking a few deep breaths, the faint feeling went away, and she was able to stand on her own. "When was the last time you slept?" she asked, moving a few steps away so she could see his face.

Sheepishly, Spock tilted his head. "I have been relying on meditation to supplement the majority of my body's rest cycle." So, days, she would guess. "You disapprove?"

The sensing of each other's emotions ran in both directions. How had she let that slip her memory? "You ought to sleep more. You work too hard."

"Dedication to one's work is an admirable trait, is it not?"

"Not when it comes at the expense of one's health." She made sure to add a teasing quality to her words. He could and would resort to quoting Vulcan medical texts to back up his claims. "I meant it, about missing you," she said, referring to their last moments in the meld.

He cleared his throat, his eyes darting on the floor beneath his feet. "The sentiment is mutual." There was a pause. Neither of them knew quite what to say next, but two loud dings sprang from both their pockets. He pulled out his communicator first. Amusement danced in his eyes, and he turned the screen to face her, showing a short clip from Chekov. "Lieutenant Waters has returned from Earth with unexpected guests."

"Wow, David's gotten bigger." He must be over a year old. Carol was in the background, standing close to Waters and talking to Scotty, while Kirk was practically clutching his son like an extremely wide-eyed teddy bear.

"Indeed," Spock said. He examined the clip another time. "I have not spoken to Dr. Marcus in some time. Mr. Chekov says that they are in this shuttle bay." He showed her the message.

She nodded. "I know where that is. Do you want to go?"

"I do." Their knuckles brushed as they walked in step the whole way there.

* * *

A few nights later, the Sulu's invited everyone over for an early dinner.

Mismatched chairs, most still occupied, circled around the table. Everyone had finished eating except for Keenser, who liked to pick at his food for hours. Scotty sat beside him, his arm slung over Waters' low-backed seat, while they discussed another engineer, Rome, who was transferring to the _Liberty_. McCoy and Chekov were in a heated argument about having parrises squares matches on the ship, and despite what Waters had told before, she and McCoy were still sitting close enough together that their elbows constantly bumped. Neither one of them appeared to mind. At some point, Demora had found her way to Chekov's lap, and napped drooling on his chest.

Kirk, who hadn't put David down since arriving, and Carol were in the adjacent room with Ben and Sulu, watching the tail-end of an astrophysics documentary that Ben had helped create as head of its research team.

Spock was listening with rapt attention to Chekov and McCoy's dispute, his eyes bouncing back and forth between them. Nyota watched him watch them, fascinated with the way his skin creased between his eyebrows every time he found a flaw in their arguments. His criticisms, never aired, hovered at his lips, and when his gaze flicked every now and again to her, she didn't even try to hide her staring.

This was how the first dinner should have gone. Having everyone back together again was so long overdue that no one was quite ready to let the night end. But eventually, Keenser called quits on his tower of peas, Scotty left to prowl the bars, and Carol convinced Kirk that no, David could not just sleep on his shoulder until midnight. Chekov woke Demora and agreed to read her to sleep.

She and Spock cleared the dishes, and sometime when she wasn't looking, both McCoy and Waters had managed to slip away.

It wasn't her last night on the station, but when she hugged Demora and Ben goodnight in particular, it felt a lot like goodbye.

Without asking, Spock stayed by her side until they had left the Sulu's apartment. Slush from yesterday's snow shined their boots. "I regret that we have been unable to meet again since my arrival," he said.

She zipped up her jacket and shrugged apologetically. "Me, too. I didn't think I'd be so busy this week, but I've needed to wrap up a few things with work." The pockets of the jacket warmed her hands. She couldn't help but admire the blood rushing to his cheeks when she asked, "Can I walk you back to your quarters?"

Accepting her offer with a nod, he turned left at the end of the block. "What is your opinion of parrises squares?"

Snorting, she shook her head. "It's for people that don't mind walking away with bruises the size of watermelons."

"Mr. Chekov was adamant that Starfleet regulations do not prohibit it, given there are participants willing to play."

"It didn't look like McCoy would be willing to help in the aftermath," she said, gauging his reaction.

How could he smile with his eyes alone? "Eleven weeks ago, when Mr. Chekov first petitioned Dr. McCoy to allow him to conduct the matches, he outright refused, and said he would not discuss it further. Tonight would appear to be an improvement for the lieutenant's cause, given that Dr. McCoy engaged with him at all."

"Are you planning on being team captain, Spock?" She bumped his arm with hers.

"In fact, I was asked to serve as a referee."

She sighed. "You want to watch parrises squares, don't you?"

"The rules are simple, but the techniques for success are varied and complex." They reached the door of the building, and the inside was identical to the first floor of her own. Waiting for the lift, he added, "Starfleet vessels operate optimally when the crew has an opportunity to release their emotions, preferably in a structured manner."

"You've really thought this through." She shook her head as the lift arrived with a ding, and they ascended to the third floor.

"The sport has a reputation for disaster only because many modify the original rules to the detriment of their own safety. When followed properly, the chance for injury is minimal."

"Well," she said as they exited and approached the entrance to his quarters, "then I'm sure you'll convince McCoy of the same."

"Mr. Chekov has a higher chance of success than I would at persuading the doctor to change his mind. I have resolved to remain neutral on the matter until then." At her questioning look, he explained. "I have been known to convince Dr. McCoy to do exactly what I wish he would not. Mr. Chekov, however, is known to convince superior officers to alter their opinions, against their better judgment."

Nyota grinned. "He's got one of those faces." Or, more accurately, they all had a soft spot for him a mile wide, and he exploited that fact constantly.

"It would seem so." He paused, glancing towards the door. "Would you like to come in?"

She hesitated. It was a loaded question, possibly full of multiple meanings, but regardless of whichever it ended up being, she did not want to say anything besides, "Yes."

The quarters were plain, but standard for a brief leave at a starbase. He offered her coffee, which she accepted with thanks. If she did not end up staying the night, she still needed to finish the last remnants of paperwork for the department. To her right, the window revealed that beginnings of frozen rain. It pelted the glass in droves. "Good timing." She nodded at the weather.

"Yes." He leaned back against the desk in the corner, and the weight of his eyes on her proved distracting.

Every conversation they'd had over the past few days, however brief, continued to hit the same bump, the unspoken line neither she nor he had dared tried crossing yet, not after the initial meld. She thought she had made herself clear, but now she second-guessed herself. Maybe he hadn't understood?

Or did he feel differently and couldn't bring himself to tell her?

Honesty was the best course of action, but it put her in a vulnerable position. She reminded herself that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Keeping a hold on her breathing, she told him, "I want to try again." She begged for her hands to stay steady, for the coffee not to spill over the edge. "For us. I want to do things right this time."

He froze. So she waited and gulped down her coffee to keep herself from rambling. It tasted like ash.

"I also -" He stopped, half-closing his eyes in thought. She wanted to peer inside his mind, to see what he saw. "That would be acceptable." She heaved out a breath she'd been holding without knowing. The biggest hurdle was his agreement, and there it was. He wanted her, still.

"Okay."

He motioned towards her but stopped once again. "Are you crying?"

"Yeah."

"Have I upset you?"

She shook her head with a vigorous passion. "I'm just really happy, Spock." He brought her a tissue, but it only made her cry harder. "It's okay," she assured him.

"I do not know how to remedy the situation," he admitted, unwilling defeat in his eyes.

Well, she did. Closing the space between them, she pushed up on her toes, hovered for a moment to make sure it was okay, and pressed her lips to his. All would be right again later. Her tears would subside, and the rain would dry. For now, she just needed him closer.

* * *

Tomorrow morning the ship was leaving Yorktown, and so was she. She sat on the floor of her quarters, a half-empty bottle of wine resting against her hip as she sorted through her belongings. Over time, she'd accumulated more than she had realized, and putting off packing until the last night proved a tireless task. Eilum had stopped by earlier with the wine and a farewell, and it dulled the stress to a degree.

One box became two, and then she moved on to her clothes. Starting with the bottom drawer, she folded each item individually, but with less care than she might have practiced had she been entirely sober. Eventually, she abandoned the folding all together and started chucking piles into a box to be sorted when she'd settled in.

The top drawer held socks and underwear. Down they went into the box. But her hand touched something cool and smooth at the back. She pulled it away in fear. A bug? She peered in, searching for the source. A golden glint greeted her. The ring her father from her father. Further back, the necklace she had received from Spock tangled with a white sock. Extracting both the ring and the necklace, she sat back down with them in hand and placed them carefully in front of her.

How much wine had she had? The jewelry shined under the light from overhead, and the reflecting sheen made her vision nearly double.

The sight of them reminded her of Kirk's box from the _Enterprise_. She hadn't gone through her closet yet, but she was sure it was sitting under a few sets of boots. Making a mental note to return it at the soonest possible date, she returned her attention to the ring and the necklace.

She tried placing the ring on her middle finger, but the band was too large and slid against her skin. It was meant for someone else, with bigger hands. Pocketing the ring for safe keeping, she held up the necklace under the light.

Oh, Spock.

In the end, she hadn't stayed the night. A work call interrupted anything further than a kiss, and in some ways, she was glad. It was better to ease back into their relationship, not rush in without a thought. There was still so much more that needed to be said.

Sighing, she brought the blue stone to her chest. He had said he was willing to try again, and in the end, it was her necklace. She could do with it what she wished. So with fumbling hands, she wrapped the chain under her hair and clasped the two ends together. The stone chilled her sternum after she adjusted it to sit properly under her shirt.

She had missed it there, and she doubted she would remove it again any time soon.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter, we'll be back on the Enterprise! So that'll be fun. As you can see, there's still a few more loose ends to tie up, but the end will be chapter 20. Only three more to go, and fingers crossed, I can keep going on this momentum. Thanks for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **ACT V**

 **Part 2**

A Federation starship was, in its ideal form, a well-oiled machine that ran perfectly, responded to orders promptly, and functioned as an exploratory and diplomatic force. Nyota knew what a ship should be, ideally, and had helped run one for years, but it was only her second day back. The codes were different, there were about a hundred new names and faces to memorize, and taking back her position from Longo was complicated in ways she hadn't anticipated.

 _This would probably be a lot more awkward if I wasn't leaving in two months_ , he had told her yesterday, along with the fact that he was resigning from Starfleet altogether. Shocked by the news, she'd asked if it was because of the job itself, but he couldn't stop grinning. _No, no. It was great, once I got the hang of it. I'm actually getting married._ He tried to take time out and show her what had changed with the communications system, but his mind was elsewhere. Every conversation led to his fiancé, work related or not.

It had been funny. It was still funny. But she had a feeling that, by the end of the week, her laughter would dry up. Judging from Yvette's rolling eyes, it might come sooner. "Hey." Speaking of, Yvette approached from her left. Looking up from the panel, Nyota took out her earpiece and checked the time. Beta shift had ended, thank the stars. "It's my turn in the hotspot."

She stood, more than happy to give her legs a stretch, and offered Yvette the chair. "Be my guest."

The computer alerted to the change in personnel, flashing green for a brief moment. "How'd it go?" she asked. Besides herself, Yvette was the longest serving communications officer on the ship. Falling back into a routine with her had been the easiest thing so far.

"Okay," Nyota said, but the forced optimism in her voice wasn't difficult to hear.

"Give it time. You're too much of a perfectionist." Placing her own earpiece in, she waved Nyota off with a smile and started recording subspace frequencies at the last stopping point. Nyota hovered for the briefest moment and turned to face the stars. At warp, their light bent in an array of colors. It was breathtaking, and she had missed it.

She considered messaging Spock, but something else needed doing first. As soon as she entered the lift, she opened her communicator and punched in a familiar number. "Uhura to Kirk."

The device crackled before his response came. "This is Kirk. Is something the matter?"

She shook her head and walked in the direction of her quarters. "No. I need to talk to you alone, though. Are you busy?"

"I'm in the Ready Room," Kirk said, though his tone turned petulant at the mention of the room. "Stop by whenever. I don't think I'll be leaving for the next year." She could hear his pout.

Once she entered her quarters, she rifled through her as yet unpacked boxes for the bag she needed to bring him. She balanced her communicator in one hand. "Funny, I just left the Bridge. I'll be up in a minute or two."

"See you then. Kirk out."

The bag had slid in between her pants and a stack of sheet music. She held it at her side and retraced her steps to the Bridge. With a buzz at a door that hadn't been on the last _Enterprise_ , Kirk called for her to enter.

It took her aback. The new addition to the Bridge was as sterile as Sickbay. It held a desk with a computer and a few chairs. Without decoration, the white walls and floor only served to heighten the flash of color in Kirk's command shirt, the single thing of interest in the room apart from the wide window behind him and the shine of his eyes as they swiveled towards her. His shoulders hunched over the desk, and weary hands rested on his cheeks. He'd been in there since at least the end of alpha shift.

"This place is boring." He turned to stare out the window and sighed loudly. "No one visits me."

"Try a candle," she said, taking the seat across from him. The bag wrinkled against her leg.

"Is my presence not enough?"

That could be answered in a variety of ways, but an incoming message interrupted them. Kirk stared at his computer screen, forehead wrinkling. His fingers clenched on his cheek, the knuckles turning white. From under the desk, his leg began to shake.

Interesting.

A burning curiosity made her lean forward ever so slightly. "Something you want to talk about?"

"No," he said, rubbing at his eyes. "It's just an update about the Romulans."

She straightened her spine. "What about the Romulans?"

"You don't know?" She shook her head, and he sat back up. "Are you serious? They've been toeing the border for months. Pretty much cut off all communication with us." It was news to her. "Jeez, where've you been?"

There had been some talk on the station, but it wasn't as though anything he had said was common knowledge. She cleared her throat. "I didn't think it was serious."

"Well, it's serious enough that I'm looking for better news." The change in subject was not as smooth as it should have been from him, and a lump of worry wormed its way in her throat. "How's it been, being back?"

"Good." All of Longo's talk about his engagement only made the ring burn in her pocket, but other than that - "Great, you know."

"Glad to hear it. Is it - I don't want to pry, but you and Spock?" The meaning was clear.

She dismissed it with a wave. "Not an issue." And not his business, so she employed a distraction tactic of her own and bent over to grab the bag. "By the way, I did come here for a specific reason." He shrugged, motioning for her to continue. She tried to explain it without sounding like she had torn his old quarters apart. "It's about the ship. Once when I was on Altamid, they let me see it up close. I found some things of yours. I meant to send them right away, but it just kept slipping my mind. It's not an excuse." The guilt had been eating her up since she'd found it while packing.

She placed it on the center of his desk, and he flicked open the top to reveal the picture his late brother had drawn. With a touch lighter than she thought him capable, he lifted the paper away, and his eyes flitted over his childish handwriting. The infamous box in question. "What - "

"I didn't go through it all, but enough to tell that it was important enough to keep," she said.

Opening the lid, he examined the top few items. The pair of unworn socks shook in his hand. "This is ..."

His expression went slack, and the guilt rose a notch. "I should've sent it earlier. I'm sorry," she said.

"Sorry?" He repeated in a tone one note too high. His eyes misted. "Uhura, I - I mean it's safe, right? That's all that matters." He shut the lid and clutched the box to his chest. "Thank you." His voice wobbled at the end.

The crying was unexpected. "You don't need to - here, take this." She handed him a tissue from her pocket.

He laughed at the gesture, but accepted it all the same. "Thanks. I know it's just stuff." Shrugging it off now would not work, and they both knew it.

"Important stuff."

"Seeing David, it's made me all emotional." Tossing the tissue in the trash, he gathered the items and put the bag on his lap. He was uncomfortable, and she didn't want him to be.

"Of course," she said. "Anyone would be."

Her assurance left him frowning still, eyes glued downwards.

"Uhura, did I do the right thing, letting you leave?" Another abrupt change, but she let it go. If he didn't want to talk about it, then they wouldn't.

"It was my decision."

"I know, but, well." He fiddled with the handle on the bag. "It's been on my mind lately."

"What exactly?"

"I was." He paused, before continuing in a rush. "Can I be completely honest with you, as in, this is me, Jim, and not me, like the captain, saying this?" She barely nodded, and he was off again. "So I wasn't going to sign off on the transfer. With Yorktown. I just wasn't. I thought you were wrong, and I was in a bad enough mood at the time that I - But then you said some stuff, and it got me thinking..."

"Yes?"

If he ever went to court, he would need a good lawyer because the guilt leaked from his eyes. "It's just that Bones was so sad."

"You wanted me to stay for Waters?" That had been the pitch. He had bought it. What was -

"No," he said. "I wanted you to stay for Spock."

The lump of worry returned, making it hard to swallow. "I don't understand."

"Safety's relative. I think we both know that. But Yorktown-"

"Is safer than the _Enterprise_." It was her turn to sigh, arms crossing over her chest.

"It was stupid and pig-headed of me." He held up both hands. "I know it was, even at the time, I knew. But you wanted to stay so badly, and maybe you'd be away, but you'd be safe, and seeing Bones grieve the way he did, and I mean, let's be honest, they weren't even together half as long as you and Spock, and I knew if something happened to you, well, Spock's long gone, and I can't run this ship without him. I hated it without you, but at least it could function. And really, you were always going to come back. But before we talked I found out Spock had tried to leave. So I thought, okay, what if I have a few months to convince him to stay, with you perfectly safe in Yorktown's snowglobe bubble, more or less, and he really had no reason to want to leave, especially knowing you'd be back before any of us knew it and -"

"Jim."

He was almost hyperventilating. "Yeah?"

"I wanted to go." She smiled and shook her head. "And I think it was for the best, in the long run. Whatever your reasoning, however convoluted, it's okay. So let's just call it even." At the end of the day, that was best for them both.

He went back to cradling the bag in his arms, but there was relief in his muted smile. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A trickling noise from the next room filled her head, rousing her from sleep. Instinctively, she reached out, but the spot beside her was empty and cold. Spock often woke before her, he simply required less rest, but the computer announced the time at three forty in the morning. He should still be there.

But no, that was wrong. They no longer shared quarters, even if she was back on the _Enterprise_. The thought made her sit up, thin blanket falling off her shoulders and down to her waist. She leaned back against the headboard, stretching out her legs and tangling them in the covers.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It sounded like it was coming from the bathroom. She would have to see what the problem was eventually, but for now, she waited in the dark. Her fingers tapped out the rhythm of the dripping on her knees. The pattern drilled itself into her mind like the steps of a waltz. One, two, three. One, two, three.

She could feel herself drifting back to sleep, her fingers losing the surety of the beat.

A steady beeping in sets of three echoed in the shuttle. Her sister busied herself at the pilot's seat. Glancing at the ship's systems on a panel to her right, Nyota nodded. Everything checked out fine, so she sat back down. Makena's hair had grown out again, resting loose to the middle of her back. She wore a golden Starfleet uniform.

"When do we get there?" Makena asked, spinning in her seat.

"Five more hours."

"Where's Spock?"

Nyota looked away from the navigation controls. Where was he? "I don't know."

Makena was confused, her expression twisting. "Why not?"

"Because -" But she didn't have an explanation. Instead, with shaking hands, she pulled her grandfather's ring from her front pocket and placed it in Makena's palm. "You should take it. I won't need it."

Shining and pure, the ring rested there in her sister's hand, but Makena only shook her head. "Ny, I don't want this. Pops gave it to you. Not me. Not Kamau. It's yours." She gave her a pointed look. "It's Spock's."

"Makena, listen. You don't -"

"It is not in our custom to receive again that which was given as a gift," she interrupted in a strange tone.

Nyota woke in the next moment. The lights were still off, but it was already 06:00, and the dripping had gotten quicker. Drip-drip-drip-drip-drip. Prying herself from the bed, she padded over to the bathroom, the door sliding open at her presence. The sink was leaking, droplets of water falling in an almost steady stream. She checked the sides of it but had no clue how it worked. She would have to file a maintenance request on her first week.

Stupid new ship. Her old quarters never had leaky sinks.

She went to the nearest Exercise Room after changing and went through a few stretches and a quick workout routine. When she returned to her quarters, she got around to filing that maintenance request and hopped into the sonic shower. Another thing she missed about the old ship was, even with strictly regulated rations on it, showers with actual water had still been a thing. They were one of the old perks. Things were different now, though.

Uniform on, a ringing at her door pulled her from the mirror.

"You're not here about the sink?" she glanced at the time. A response for a minor inconvenience like a leaky sink could take over a week. Yet, there Waters stood, a small toolbox at her side.

Her bloodshot eyes spoke of a long and tiring night, but she only shrugged. "I saw it as I was heading to the mess. Figured it wouldn't take long."

"You don't have to-" Nyota's protest was cut short as Waters pressed by her and made a beeline for the bathroom. She followed close behind and leaned against the doorframe as Waters knelt to open the panel behind the sink. "What's wrong with it?" she asked.

Waters peered at the metal tubing with a small flashlight. "Pipe needs to be tightened. It shouldn't take a minute."

"Well now I'm embarrassed. I could've done that myself." It made her feel worse, considering how Waters was probably getting off a gamma shift.

"It's really not a problem." She reached in with a tool, turning it around a small pipe near the back. "If you ever have something small like this again, just message me. It'll be faster than maintenance, I can promise you that." Finishing moments later, Waters replaced the panel on the wall and stood, gathering her tools.

Nyota thanked her. "This would've kept me up for nights," she admitted.

Waters shot her a disbelieving frown. "You heard it from the next room?"

"I've got my mom's hearing, which is both a blessing and a curse," Nyota laughed, pointing to her ears. Pausing at the door, she asked if Waters wanted to grab breakfast, and they made their way to the nearest mess hall. It was filled with people preparing for alpha shift, though the early hour kept the conversation muted.

Picking at toast and a fruit salad, she listened to Waters vent about the state of the warp core. It seemed her adjustment back to the ship was not going as smoothly as she'd anticipated. Something about another engineer, Rome, letting Scotty run wild around the Engineering deck because he was, "A complete pushover. He always was. Always sided with Scotty over me on everything. It's ridiculous to think he's running his own department on _Liberty_. I hope for everyone's sake _his_ Assistant Chief won't let him rig up a propulsion system that's doomed to fail at any given moment."

All Waters needed to continue was a sympathetic nod and a few muted agreements, and it was entertaining enough, and relatable enough given her own predicament with Longo, to listen to that Nyota provided them without complaint.

Alpha shift started at eight, so it was at seven twenty on the dot when Spock entered the mess with Chekov wildly waving his hands beside him. She couldn't make out what he was saying until they got closer. "-up to three more percent, and the other group only - Uhura!" Chekov exclaimed when he spotted her and Waters. "I want to sit next to you today." He abandoned Spock, whose face briefly contorted into irritation, and plopped down beside her. "Good morning." He nodded to Waters.

She glared at him, said nothing, and sipped her coffee with a slurp. Chekov stage whispered to Nyota, "I think she is mad at me."

It set Waters off. "Go get your breakfast," she snapped at him, to which Chekov mock saluted and sauntered towards the replicators. "He's not as innocent as he looks. He and Scotty ruined everything," she said, though the bite from her voice had gone the moment Chekov left.

"I see." Nyota nodded, still keeping her tone neutral. In her first year on the ship, she had made the mistake of commenting on a Science department argument spanning dozens of labs and concerning the organization of some kind of beakers. She had made an enemy of half the ship, which was only resolved months later. She smiled at the memory now, though at the time, it hadn't been quite so funny. Neutrality had benefits, and she might relate, but she wasn't getting involved.

Taking the opportunity of Chekov's brief absence, Spock stole his spot and began to eat a similar breakfast to her own. His knee touched hers under the table, warming her skin through his uniform, and they exchanged good mornings. It had been an old pattern, always eating breakfast together, but every morning since she'd returned that he showed up at seven twenty to meet her, her heart still beat a little bit faster.

Did he look even more perfect in the morning, or was it just the lighting?

Waters snorted quietly. "It's nothing," she said, when Nyota tore her eyes from Spock's.

To Waters' dismay, Chekov cozied up right next to her with a cup of coffee and two bowls of cereal when he returned. "One for you," he said, pushing the left bowl towards her. With an upturned nose, Waters refused to acknowledge him. "It's not like the old replicators. It's good." After staring her down with the most intense puppy-dog expression in history, Chekov succeeded in getting her to pick up the spoon.

"This changes nothing," she said between bites.

"Of course," he agreed, but with a small smile of victory.

Sulu came in around seven thirty, and Waters left to go back to Engineering a few minutes later. Nyota watched her collide into McCoy and Kirk as they walked into the mess together. Kirk headed towards the replicators, but McCoy and Waters stayed back at the entry. Spock caught her staring and said in a far too casual tone to be believed, "Dr. McCoy has been in an improved mood since our departure from Yorktown."

"No kidding," Kirk agreed as he took Waters' place. He nodded over at the pair. "I swear he hasn't yelled at anyone for a full seventy-two hours."

Spock shifted his attention to Kirk and raised a brow. "Proof is required to substantiate such a claim."

Kirk grinned. "I went in yesterday with a sprained wrist. He was totally zen about it. I mean, usually he at least gets that glazed over look, where he wants to hit me but knows he can't. Kind of missed it actually. It made it all a little less worth it."

"Anecdotal," Spock said in dismissal and returned to his food.

"Hey," Kirk shrugged, picking at a muffin, "it's good enough for me."

"Then you have considerably lax standards."

"It's not even eight yet. Pick a fight with someone else," Kirk said, flicking a crumb over in Spock's general direction. It landed on the table between them. Kirk sighed. "Well, it was worth a shot."

"Was it?" Spock stood to clear his dishes, taking the errant crumb with him.

Kirk turned his exasperated glare to her. "Is it me, or has he been more difficult lately?"

She shrugged, moving to follow Spock. Funny, she was thinking exactly the opposite. "It's just you."

"Huh. Well, see you in a few." He waved her off, and then started telling Chekov that his pants were too wrinkled.

Spock waited for her by the entryway, Waters and McCoy gone from sight. "Did you sleep well?" he asked as they started towards the Bridge.

"No, actually." She explained the leaky sink to him, and asked, "Did you?"

"No."

"I haven't seen your quarters yet," she said, looking straight ahead but feeling his eyes on her.

"Perhaps tonight."

They entered the lift, and she said just to see him blush, "It's a date, then."

He nodded and cleared his throat. It did nothing to prevent the blood in his cheeks, nor did her fingers reaching for his just before the doors opened. She walked away first, her steps in time with the pounding of her heart.

It was good to be back.

* * *

A/N: Hey, thanks for reading! I'm trying really hard to have this all finished by the end of the month, so keep an eye out for updates in the next two weeks.


	19. Chapter 19

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **Act V**

 **Part 3**

Hair clung to her neck and forehead from the heat, but Nyota didn't care.

Spock slept on his side, facing her. His shoulders rose and fell at steady intervals, and his hand had clasped around hers sometime in the night. In her absence, he had taken to turning up the heat in his quarters, and in the month that they'd started spending more and more of their nights together, he still hadn't kicked the habit. She hadn't had the strength yet to complain. If he was comfortable, then she could manage for now.

She could feel his heartbeat in his fingers, and his peace in dreaming, too. The room was so still that she wondered whether or not she was really awake.

An hour or a minute later, his eyes blinked open. She smiled, burying her face in his neck. He accommodated her with sluggish movements, wrapping an arm around her waist. "It is not time to get up," he said, though it was almost a question.

"Not yet," she mouthed over his shoulder.

He sighed out an "okay", and closed his eyes again.

If she could will herself back to sleep, she would, but the heat made her restless. She pushed away from him, carefully returning his arm to the mattress. The floor, at least, was cool under her bare feet. She shivered.

In his bathroom, she splashed water on her cheeks and the back of her neck, enjoying the chill it brought to her skin. Her reflection made painfully clear the state of her hair, and she sighed. Pulling it up and away from her face helped only a little. When she returned to the room, Spock was sitting up against the headboard, and cool air drifted from the ceiling. His eyes followed her walk back to the bed. "You should have told me that the temperature settings were too high." His voice still hadn't lost the recesses of sleep.

"You looked comfortable." The blanket had fallen on the floor, so she picked it up and tossed it onto his legs. He would be cold.

"You did not."

She shrugged, unwilling to argue with so little rest. His chances of exposing some logical fallacy in her reasoning were far too high before six in the morning. "It's okay now." Settling beside him, she reached for his hand. "Go back to sleep." Even in the dark, the deep color of his eyes stood out against the pillows. They seemed to go on forever. He blinked them shut after only a few seconds.

Just as she was about to drift to sleep at last, a buzzing noise erupted from both their communicators. Spock was out of bed in an instant, reading his message and approaching the closet for a fresh uniform. "There is an emergency senior staff meeting in fifteen minutes," he said, already slipping into a professional tone. She rubbed a hand over her tired eyes, nodding all the while.

She got ready in a hurry, her gaze consistently finding its way back to the bed in a vain wish that she was still in it.

The halls were empty besides the two of them when they left his quarters. "Did Jim say what this is all about?"

Spock walked with a padd in his face, still navigating the path to the meeting room with ease. "There has been another incident along the Neutral Zone." More questions sprang to mind, particularly concerning Kirk's comments from when she'd first returned, but Spock was distracted, and she'd find out soon enough.

Before they entered the briefing room, Spock brought the padd down from eye level and looked sideways at her. "At the conclusion of the meeting, assuming there will be no imminent need for your presence, you should rest."

"Do I look that awful?" she smiled, viscerally aware of the bags under her eyes.

"No." He bent down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She sighed into it, surprised that he would show this kind of affection outside of their quarters. Then he straightened. "But without the optimal amount of rest, your performance in discharging your duties will undoubtedly be negatively affected." How romantic.

Shaking her head, she stepped first toward the door, and it slid open to reveal the majority of the senior staff already milling around the replicator, ordering caffeinated drinks as though their lives depended upon it. She joined them, queuing up to grab tea. Scotty saluted her with his mug, dark circles under his eyes to match her own. He must have been on gamma shift or been suffering from the same restlessness. "Would it be appropriate to say good morning?" she smiled, waiting behind Chekov as he muttered in Russian at the replicator.

Scotty pulled a frown. "Not at this ungodly hour." He took a step closer and whispered to her, "If you catch me drifting off, just kick me, would ya?" She promised that she would, and off Scotty went to lounge in his chair around the table.

By the time she had grabbed her tea and sat down as well, Kirk rushed in, greeting everyone and moving to stand beside Spock.

"Sorry to pull you all in. I know everyone'd rather be sleeping right now." She heard Scotty mumble something under his breath but couldn't quite make it out. Sulu apparently did because he coughed in a not so successful attempt to cover up a snicker. Kirk ignored them, continuing in a hurry. He stared down at his padd and read off in a monotone voice. "At 02:00 this morning Standard time, a Romulan war bird crossed the Neutral Zone. They flew past a Starfleet research outpost and shot three unknown weapons beams into open space. They then circled back around and returned in the same flight path they came in. The _Enterprise_ is being sent to the research outpost to rendezvous with three other starships from our fleet." Kirk continued to go over the details of their orders, while Nyota skimmed the report that had been sent to them all. _Enterprise_ would patrol the Neutral Zone with starships _Baykal_ and _Delaware_ , and _Horizon_ would stay at the research outpost should the people manning it need to be evacuated.

The more she read about the Romulans, the more she wanted to get Eilum on a call and ask why no one had told her any of this. Political disarray. A military coup. More aggressive territorial expansion. The complete diplomatic silence for months. It was as though every step forward the Federation had made with the Romulans since the destruction of Vulcan had been reversed.

It was disheartening, but accompanied by a small, albeit guilty grain of vindication. The Romulan delegation's cancellation from her time on Yorktown aligned almost to the day of the assassination of their ambassador to the Federation. It hadn't a botched translation or misplaced gesture on her part. She wanted to laugh. How long had she beat herself up over that call with Paris and Eilum? There really had been nothing she could have done.

She was so engrossed with the report that she jumped when Spock rested a hand on her shoulder. Glancing from her padd, she saw that everyone had already left, a few half filled cups of coffee littering the table. "I didn't know any of this." Shaking her head, she asked him. "Why didn't I know any of this?"

He took Scotty's abandoned chair. "It is not something Starfleet wishes many people to know."

"Why?"

His posture sagged ever so slightly. "The situation has yet to present any viable solutions."

"They've never tried to say why they're doing this?" She motioned to the padd. "There has to be something they want."

Spock's eyes darkened. "Admiral Williams believes they want a war."

"You don't share his opinion," she said.

He nodded. "Neither does the captain. It would not matter to the Romulan Empire who attacked first. If their priority was armed conflict, they would already have made that possibility the reality." He anticipated her next question. "This may be to demonstrate that the new government will not honor the treaty and will no longer recognize the Neutral Zone as the border of their territory."

She rubbed her temple, feeling a headache coming on. "If they wanted to negotiate, why not, I don't know, let us know that?"

"We will avoid war at any cost. They will not. They want us to come to them."

"Why haven't we?" The question struck her as odd. Surely they had.

"The captain has requested the full powers necessary to engage with the ships on their side of the border, but Starfleet Command claims the Executive Council has yet to give a response. Perhaps this most recent violation will motivate their acquiesce. They have never crossed into our territory, nor fired weapons," he added. Then his communicator buzzed three times in quick succession.

She sighed and squeezed his hand. "We should probably get to work." They both stood in tandem, and his communicator went off again. "You go on," she said, waving him off. "I'll be on the Bridge in five, just going to grab something to eat." He ran his fingers over hers for a quiet moment before marching out of the room, like a soldier to battle.

* * *

Chekov belted out another scale, singing along to each note Nyota pushed on her tablet. Covering his ears, Sulu buried his head back into his chair and, not for the first time that afternoon, shot the both of them an irritated glare. If looks could kill...

"What?" Chekov frowned, cutting off to the benefit of her eardrums. "It is not that bad."

Sulu hunched his shoulders and donned his signature poker face. "It _is_ that bad."

Sad, sad eyes swiveled to Nyota. "Uhura?" Chekov asked, eyes wide.

She cleared her throat. Sulu was right, and she didn't know what she could do for Chekov in the next few hours that would really help. "Isn't there something else this unnamed lieutenant would like?" Anything besides twenty-second century pop songs, for example. They suffered from a tendency to devolve into high pitched choruses that Chekov, try though he might, was not going to reach.

Collapsing back on the floor of the rec room, Chekov spoke to the ceiling. "I would like her to like me. If I cannot sing, this is impossible. I will die alone, without love."

Sulu rolled his eyes and returned to his book. He was leaving Chekov to her, which was more than a bit unfair. She had other things she wanted to do during her break besides fail to teach someone to sing. Nyota tapped Chekov's shin with her boot. "You aren't going to die alone."

"Yes."

"You're a very likable person, Chekov."

He sat up in a huff, waving around the room. "I would be more likable if I could sing." Resisting the urge to roll her eyes like Sulu, Nyota patted the spot beside her for Chekov to sit. She didn't understand why he had insisted on lying around the floor in the first place. At times, he could be more dramatic than Kirk, a previously unknown feat. He threw himself onto the couch and pouted. "Can nothing be done? Am I hopeless?"

She hesitated. It wasn't that he couldn't get better at singing. It was just that she wasn't a miracle worker. "If you could practice more," she began, but Chekov interjected.

"It has to be today! Or else -"

"What? She'll turn into a pumpkin?" she asked.

When Chekov didn't respond, Sulu dropped his book down and said, "Something with a deadline, once a year. There's no holidays that I can find. A birthday?"

"No!" Chekov crossed his arms. He was a worse liar than Scotty.

Sulu picked up a padd. "Let's see who on the crew register has a birthday today." Bounding from the couch, Chekov bolted towards Sulu. As they fought over the padd, Nyota settled back and observed the room.

Engineering and Security had invaded the space after beta shift, pushing together tables and grabbing chairs from other rec rooms. It was a sea of red shirts, huddled together into smaller groups with some crowded around the holo sets. She spotted Scotty and Keenser drinking together, with Waters passed out, her head resting on the arm of the couch. Keenser was perched above, balanced perfectly on the top between them. Catching her eye, Scotty tipped the bottle in her direction in a mock toast, but she just smiled and shook her head.

Chekov had not managed to wrestle the padd from Sulu's hands and had resigned himself to pouting beside Nyota once more. "Don't," he said, the order half-hearted.

"I won't say anything." Sulu mimed zipping up his mouth. A single moment passed in silence, before, "Isn't she a little old for you?"

Chekov was up and gone before Sulu could even finish his question, though not before Nyota caught sight of his burning cheeks. She felt the urge to flick Sulu's arm but refrained. "He's embarrassed."

"Good," Sulu said, fiddling with the padd. The teasing air had left with Chekov.

She stared at him expectantly. Sulu could become serious quickly, but he was far from cold-hearted, particularly when it came to his friends, and especially when it came to Chekov. "What?" he asked, shoulders tensing.

"It was too much." She crossed her arms and leaned back. Asking Sulu anything outright never worked, but he could be tricked into thinking it was his idea to share as well as the next person.

He shifted uncomfortably. "He does this too often. People's feelings get hurt, and it doesn't help that the pool of his romantic interests stay within the confines of the ship. It was funny at first, but he can't keep dating every person here." At her unconvinced shrug, Sulu added, "Look what happened to Kirk. He dated Carol, and they ended up with a baby."

"Chekov is not getting anyone pregnant."

"That we know of," Sulu muttered.

"He's really young. It's normal."

"He's not a cadet."

The natural argument remained unsaid. That when Chekov was a cadet, he was, practically speaking, too young to date his peers, and maybe he was just making up for lost time now. But the point was moot, and they both knew it. "You're right," she conceded. "But you still didn't need to embarrass him."

"I'm on edge." Sulu rubbed a temple, looking around at the sea of people going in and out of the rec room. "How many days have we been patrolling?"

"Four." It made her tired just to think about it. Being on constant alert, the few breaks spent trying to relax, but knowing that Spock was constantly working. He would make himself sick if he didn't let it rest, but as usual, his insistence on superior Vulcan biology made him the perfect candidate to oversee, quite literally, everything.

So she was stuck in the rec room with Sulu. Not that she didn't enjoy his company, but it reminded her of everyone else who took at least some time to let loose.

"They usually make us do a week before they call it off," Sulu said. She nodded, messing with the end of her ponytail. Maybe she could bother McCoy. Tell him to slap Spock on the wrist and make him take a power nap. It wouldn't be the first time, and it surely wouldn't be the last.

"But it's different this time. They flew past the border."

He shrugged a little too casually to be belived. "Until they stop sending in the starships with the most weapons to solve problems with the highest political stakes, then it will just keep getting worse." Lifting his cup of water, he toasted. "To next time." She snorted and joined in, clinked her mug with his glass.

The rec room emptied out in waves over the course of the next few hours. An article published by her old academic adviser caught her attention, and by the time she'd finished tracking down a few interesting sources they'd cited, she looked up to find only a handful of people remained. Sulu was gone, and she vaguely recalled him leaving maybe an hour ago. A screen in front of her flashed on the opening credits of an action holo, but no one around was watching it. She stared at it without thinking a few moments before pulling herself from the couch and straightening down her uniform dress.

The padd bumped at her thigh as she wandered through the halls down to the turbolift. She didn't want to go back to her own quarters, and Spock's would no doubt be empty. Food was a possibility, but she ended up on the observation deck instead, her feet dictating the path all on their own. It was even emptier than the rec room, and no one even spared her a glance as she sat down on a bench.

She stared out into space. The stars winked at her, catching her attention on each little speck, counting them up, and then losing track. Their light bent in the warp field. What would it feel like to glide through it with no suit, no ship, no barrier between her and the universe? What would it feel like to just float away into the black?

A humorless smile tugged at her lips. She certainly was in a mood. Maybe it was the monotony of the patrols, the waiting around for something to happen. This kind of mission never suited her well. It reminded her how much she enjoyed the adrenaline of their more dangerous encounters, an uncomfortable reality with which she would never quite be at peace.

She couldn't be sure how much time had passed when someone sat beside her.

Spock.

He said nothing, and neither did she, both their attentions glued to the stars. After a time, her eyes drifted towards him. He was paler than normal, hair pressed down to perfection, uniform much the same. He had a small bruise on his right hand, the one resting on his knee. She placed her hand near to it, not quite touching the mark.

He shifted to face her. "Have you been here since the end of delta shift?" She shrugged, unsure of the time, and stared at his cheek, his shoulder, his hand. Expecting him to be tense, Nyota was surprised to find him entirely relaxed. It felt like ages since they'd last talked, though it couldn't have been more than a day. "Gamma shift is over. Perhaps you should rest?" Spock said.

"I am."

With unblinking eyes, he considered her and nodded, shifting his gaze back to the glass. She followed suit, and they sat for a while, shoulder to shoulder, in the quiet. She lost herself in the light again, so focused on it that he had to repeat himself. "Nyota?"

"Hmm?" Maybe she was more tired than she'd thought. She could fall asleep right here. Though not the most ideal spot, the bench wouldn't be the worst place she'd ever napped.

A hint of a more indulgent smile shined in his eyes. "I wish to discuss something of a personal nature, but perhaps this isn't the right time."

"No, it's fine," she said, straightening up and observing the rest of the room. Not a soul left besides the two of them. "Go ahead."

The engine's distant hum, barely noticeable, filled her ears as he untangled his hand from hers and instead clasped both of his together in his lap. Worry knotted in her stomach, taking over the loose-limbed comfort. "I have learned that progress necessitates failure, and it is by addressing that failure which allows progress." All the words ended in neat, small breaks, a sure sign of his rehearsing them in his head. The worry morphed into concern. "Do you recall the night ten point two months prior, when I escorted you to your quarters following dinner at Lieutenant Sulu's permanent residence?"

Ten months would've been just before she'd started at Yorktown, just before _Enterprise-A_ left for its new mission. Sulu's first dinner for the Bridge crew. She rubbed at her temple, trying to remember. "We had a fight."

His expression went cryptic, shoulders stiff. She could feel herself mirroring the stance."You told me that I could not love you the way that you loved me." He said it in the plainest tone, but it still made her wince. Had she really said that to him? "Yet you have stated your desire to resume a long-term partnership, and although our interests align in this, I am still somewhat confused. What is different now?"

In all honesty, she would've preferred they kept that particular fight buried away, another in a series of disagreements better forgotten for the sake of getting on with things. With him. But to hear her words repeated back at her, probably verbatim, meant that he had more likely than not mulled over them for the better part of a year. What she wouldn't give for a chance to go back and change it.

She twisted to face him completely. "Nothing is different, Spock. What I said," she shook her head, the memories flooding back, "I was saying it to hurt you because I thought that it would make me feel better. Which is horrible and mean, but it's the truth. It certainly wasn't my best moment." She'd count it up there with the argument with her mother before joining Starfleet, or the time she'd broken her best friend's nose in what had started as a friendly soccer match. "I am sorry. I was so confused and angry and -"

"Hurt." He finished for her, but the tone wasn't quite right.

"You were going to leave me, leave Starfleet. Of course I was hurt. I thought we were partners, and one dinner conversation later, it was like you were a stranger."

"You were unhappy before."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It was the first dinner we had eaten together for six weeks and four days. You would return to our quarters after I had fallen asleep forty-five percent of the days in the four months prior to that dinner. Our conversations lasted a minute shorter on average in the same time period compared to the remaining time during the five year mission, and the main topics were work-related. Concurrently, you researched other postings in Starfleet that met your qualifications."

She hadn't thought that he had noticed. A defensiveness creeped into her voice. "So? I was restless. Everyone gets in a slump, especially here, where we're all so isolated. So I daydreamed about leaving it all behind some days. Who didn't?" The defensiveness morphed into hurt as she remembered exactly how she had felt at the time. "But you weren't daydreaming. For months, you acted as though your mind was made up, bags packed. It's not the same. You never say how you feel. I always have to guess."

"I have never had a need to express to you in words something that I thought you already understood through my actions."

"Your actions told me you had fallen out of love. What else could they have said?" She shook her head.

"That they were a response to the parallel within you."

His words knocked the wind out of her. "You thought that I wasn't in love with you anymore?" she asked. He stared back blankly, and she reached forward to grab his wrist. "No. You were wrong." She let out a laugh at the idea of it, though the sound was chocked. "I never fell out of love with you, Spock. When I thought about leaving, it was always with you."

"Yet, when I offered to remain with you at Yorktown, you pulled away. You said that if you allowed me to do just that, that I could be sure that you never loved me at all."

"It wasn't - " It wasn't like that. "You love this ship, this crew."

His eyes made her second-guess all her assumptions. She had fallen in love with his eyes first. "Why should that mean that I do not also love you?"

"I couldn't take you away from here, Spock." She squeezed his wrist, hoping to communicate in any way that she wanted the best for him, regardless of her involvement in that. "After everything you've been through, how could I ask you to abandon your home?"

Spock shook his head and said, "You are home. The _Enterprise_ is simply the place where you normally reside."

 _Marry me_ , she wanted to ask, ring burning in her pocket. The topic of marriage had been broached a handful of times in the past. Neither of them had felt strongly one way or the other, though Spock was particularly insistent that the bond they had already formed was enough. Once he had told her that he had always believed he would marry on Vulcan, but the partner his family had chosen had broken off the engagement when he had joined Starfleet, and besides that, Vulcan was gone. He had left most considerations of marriage with it.

But it was different now.

Spock stared expectantly at her, and she realized that she hadn't spoken yet. _Marry me_. The words died in her throat. Instead, she asked, "You won't say you'll leave again?" She couldn't keep the wounded hurt from her voice when she did.

"I have been advised to do what feels right. It has been difficult in the past to know what exactly that means, but I believe I understand with you." He peered into her eyes like he was looking at her soul. "A family holds little interest without you as a part of it. It was short-sighted of me to ever think otherwise."

She clasped their hands together and smiled. "We should probably stick together, then, at least for the foreseeable future."

Spock nodded with a solemn expression. "That would be an effective course of action, given the circumstances." She must be in love because his statement made her heart jump.

They left the bench behind soon after, gone to sleep off the few hours between shifts. She never let go of his hand.

* * *

Time passed excruciatingly slow. The air on the ship was equal parts tense and monotonous. Constant patrols took them on the same path and flight pattern day after day, but orders also dictated they sit on the edges of their seats, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Another alpha shift had nearly drudged to an end, and Nyota hunched over her station, static itching her ear as she sifted through reports on her computer. Chekov and Sulu quietly argued over a show they had been watching together, though she couldn't remember the name. Kirk was tapping his hand against the arm rest of the captain's chair, and someone's boots squeaked against the floor behind her. Her foot fell asleep, a testament to how little she had been moving around, and as she worked to bring blood flow back to it, something in the static changed.

The turbolift doors hissed open. Static turned to sound. Someone began to hum low. The faintest beginnings of speech rang in her ears. It wasn't Standard.

She spun in her chair. "Captain."

Kirk's eyes shot towards her, inviting her to continue. But Sulu interrupted. "We've got company." An uncloaked Romulan warbird shimmered on the view screen.

"Shields up. Yellow Alert. Uhura, contact the other ships and let them know we have visual. And get orders from Starfleet. Until then, we let them make the first move." Before Kirk had even finished issuing orders, the Romulan ship did exactly that.

"They're preparing to go to warp," Sulu said, and Nyota fought to keep her eyes at her station and not at the view screen. She finished the general message to the three other Federation ships in the area and to the researchers, and now she worked to establish contact with Starfleet Command through Yorktown, the nearest starbase. Another communications officer at Yorktown was in the middle of patching them through when Kirk interrupted.

"Uhura?"

She turned in her chair to find him staring expectantly at her. "No contact with Starfleet Command yet."

He shook his head. "We don't have time. Chekov, what's their trajectory? Where are they going?"

Chekov bent over the helm, speaking more to it than the rest of the Bridge. "Em. Likely, the ship will go in the direction of Starbase Yorktown. Possibly the nebula." The Bridge became muted for a moment, the idea of an attack strange after days of quiet. Yorktown? They would be out of their minds to target them. One Romulan ship against an entire starbase - there was no chance they could succeed. Her heart still picked up its pace at the thought, worry biting in her stomach. There could be more ships. It could be a trick.

Kirk cleared his throat, ordering them to pursue in the same direction, matching their warp. He shook his foot in a rapid pattern, and her eyes bounced as she followed it. A minute or so passed before she could connect with Admiral Williams and brief him on the situation. Kirk swiveled in his chair at the sound of her voice. "I'd like to speak to the Admiral myself," he said, jumping up. She shared a quick, knowing look with Spock. No way that conversation would go well.

"In your Ready Room?" she asked.

Kirk paused halfway to her station and cleared his throat. "Right. Yeah, sure. And get Admiral Paris on, too. She should know if they're heading her way." All eyes on the Bridge followed his path, lingering on the side doors as they closed shut. Unspoken questions buzzed in the air, but no one said a thing above a whisper. Spock moved from the science station, past her, and towards the captain's seat. He stood behind it, arms resting at his sides.

She wished she had some skill at painting because with the yellow tone lighting the Bridge, the way Spock leaned so slightly on the chair, the array of colors made by their warp field, and the growing sense of urgency, she thought it could make a picture worth admiring.

Blinking the thought away, she focused back on her station. Later. Later, she would give him the ring.

* * *

 **A/N:** I am incredibly embarrassed at how long I've gone without posting, especially given how relatively little there has been left to write. It just seemed like this impossible task, and so I kept putting it off. That's the problem with writing something over a long period of time: you lose the motivation and you start to forget all the things you wanted to do. And it's a similar problem with posting something as you write, because it's a first draft as a whole, regardless of individual chapter editing. Some people can manage all of these things well, and those people are better writers than me.

All that being said, I have officially finished writing, and the last chapter should be out after some edits. So thank you, if you had the patience to keep reading this story.

Given that I've finished it all, I did make a change to the first chapter's author's note. Someone commented that this can be read as a standalone fic, and I agree. I made an effort to distance this story from the other two, whether that was the right choice or not, and as a whole, I think it works well with and without the first two stories. Also, it saves someone from having to read about 200,000 words they wouldn't otherwise want to.

So, yeah. I have more to say, but I think I'll save that for next time. Happy reading and hope you're doing well!


	20. Chapter 20

**U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal**

 **Act V**

 **Part 4**

A skillfully blank expression accompanied Kirk as he emerged from his Ready Room minutes later. He strode silently over to the captain's chair, and she, along with everyone else on the Bridge, had their eyes glued to him. Instead of sitting, he pushed the comm button on the armrest. "Mr. Scott?"

She gained a small comfort from hearing Scotty's voice so calm. More often than not, he'd respond with a curt greeting and a loud complaint. "Aye, Captain?"

"That weapon we discussed last time around," Kirk began. Her mind turned over the word: weapon. What weapon? She gauged the reaction of the other crewmembers, but no one jumped out at her as looking at all surprised. Being out of the loop was her one of her least favorite parts of serving at Yorktown. "Is it ready? When they drop out of warp, can we disable their engine?"

She can hear the hesitation to commit. "It's as ready as it can be. I've been trying to tweak it, sir, but the fact is we'll need to fire off the weapon when they're cloaked. Otherwise, we'll be hitting their shields, and then it's as good as useless." Kirk nodded and thanked Scotty before telling him to keep it at the ready. Hitting a cloaked ship with a makeshift weapon was about as Kirk-like of a plan as she had ever seen.

"Listen up," he addressed the Bridge after closing the line. "Our first priority is to avoid armed confrontation. When the Romulan ship drops out of warp, we need to hold them off, get them into cloak, and hit them with Mr. Scott's device. It should disable their engines, and keep them from going anywhere. They'll recover from the blast soon enough, but in that time, we have a window for negotiation on our terms. This needs to happen without casualties, without damage to their vessel, or we could start a war. No one fires without my command. Clear?"

Answering affirmations echoed around the Bridge. Kirk approached Chekov's station, and Spock joined a step behind. Nyota watched them, though with her ears tuned to subspace. He made it sound so simple, but this was a dangerous mission. The possibility for mistakes were endless, and real success - understanding the source of the Romulans' hostility and constructing an agreement around it - was narrow.

It couldn't have been more than a minute later when they followed the Romulans out of warp. The warbird stopped dead in its tracks, and Nyota listened for any sign of outward-bound communication from them. "What are they doing?" she heard Chekov mutter. She turned her eyes back to the viewing screen, witnessing a series of erratic cloaks. "Do we use it now, Captain?"

"Can the computer time it right?" Kirk asked.

"I think so."

"Do you think so or know so? We need a clear shot, Chekov."

"I can do it," Chekov said. Kirk gave the go-ahead, and her toes clenched when Chekov finally fired the first blast and missed as the other ship jerked and uncloaked, rasing their shields at just the right moment. The Romulans fired just off the _Enterprise_ 's left nacelle, causing a flurry of warning noises and reports to emit from her console. She spun to address them, all the while her mind conjured images of Enterprise's nacelles drifting in the atmosphere as Krall shoved her against the glass. It wouldn't happen like that again, surely, and repeating that to herself eventually dulled the thoughts.

The Romulans retreated, zooming with their thrusters back in the direction they came. The _Enterprise_ followed close behind. "Why aren't they still firing?" Kirk muttered under his breath. She barely heard it over the call of reports from around the ship.

The ship cloaked again, and Chekov didn't wait for Kirk. He fired.

It was as though the entire Bridge was on pause. Nyota leaned forward.

Through the viewing screen, she watched as the Romulan ship flickered into focus, floating without direction. Hope, perhaps too early, filled her head, and she finally felt like she could breathe again.

Kirk called to her, "Uhura, try to establish contact. Maybe they'll want to talk now. Chekov, power down all weapons." He received a strange look from Chekov, but off the weapons went. She opened the ships channels to the Romulan ship and sent through a standard diplomatic message.

The ball was in the others ship's court. They waited. One moment, then two.

An answering call dinged in her ear. She nodded at Kirk, and put the feed on the viewing screen.

* * *

She stood outside the transporter room. People rushed past in a blur of red, gold, and blue, their voices blending together in a stream of chatter. Her nails bit into her arms as she tried to collect her thoughts.

Yesterday, in the observation deck, she should've said. Should've asked him. Why had she hesitated, the words caught in her throat? Spending the rest of their lives together was what she wanted, and she thought he wanted that, too.

Her mind raced over the last fifteen minutes.

The Romulans would talk. They would talk on their own ship, to both the captain and first officer. Those were their terms. And Kirk smiled, nodded, and off he went, taking Spock with him. Nevermind that neither of them spoke any Romulan. Spock might be familiar with some words, and they had a universal translator handy, but in what universe could it be acceptable to have their two highest ranking officers board an unfriendly ship in the middle of deep space with no security and no Romulan-speakers? Yorktown wasn't close enough to help in the moment if things went south. They were on their own.

Kirk had called for her and Sulu to follow them to the transporter, though she'd stuck as close to Spock's side as professionally possible. She walked all the way to the transporter room, outlining various diplomatic customs and gestures common when dealing with Romulans. The only positive had been her ability to maintain enough professionalism not to call Kirk out on the spot.

That was, until Kirk informed Sulu of what he needed to do should neither he nor Spock return. Leave them both and dock at Yorktown? Unthinkable, she had voiced, but Sulu had accepted the order with only the slightest hesitation. Kirk overruled her objections with more orders, and she was left to wonder whether Sulu would really go through with them. She watched the helmsman's face slip into a mask, and her hopes sunk to her feet.

Scotty waited at the transporter, and he and Kirk spoke in low voices once Sulu had gone back to the Bridge.

And Spock, he had looked down at her. "You should return to your post." Was that all he could say?

She had stared at him, forcing herself to keep a straight face. Perhaps she had stared too silently, too long because he stepped closer. Concern pulled his eyebrows down, but she knew it was concern for her, not himself. So she had smiled for him, even though it felt more like just the moving of muscles. "I love you. Come back."

His fingers had been gentle against hers. She had almost heard the words whispered back across her skin. "That is the goal," he said.

And then he had left, and she was here, outside the transporter room, wishing she had said more. What had happened to the Nyota who left Yorktown and promised to stop waiting? Why was this one question so unspeakable? She cursed her frozen tongue, stuck on the words. The ring was even in her pocket. Of course it was, for all the good it did her. It never left her side, these days. Another missed opportunity to regret.

"Uhura." Scotty stepped out of the transporter room.

She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. "Hey. Heading back down?"

He shrugged, folding his arms. "It can wait. Wrenchy's holding down the fort, and chances are, all we'll be doing for the next while is sitting around. So." Again, he shrugged and made himself comfortable against the wall. "You're going back to the Bridge?"

"Should be." But Spock wasn't there.

She caught a hint of a bemused smile on his lips. "You're worried about him," Scotty said. "But you don't need to be. Captain might get himself into trouble, and our Commander might be more interested in the scanners than the negotiations, but they make a good team. They always manage to get back."

What if this time was different? "I know."

Scotty shook his head like he knew exactly what was on her mind. He clasped her shoulder. "It'll all work out in the end, lass. They'll come back, probably not a hair touched on either of their heads." She patted his hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks, Scotty." He headed down in the direction of the Engineering deck a few seconds later, and after a few deep, calming breaths, she made her way back to the Bridge. The best she could do for Spock now was to do her job. That's what he would say, anyway.

* * *

"Anything new from Command?" Sulu asked, stopping by her station. "From the ship?"

She shook her head. If only.

She had thought the last few days had been long. These last four hours had stretched into years. Every time she checked the clock, she imagined an hour had passed. In reality, it might have been a minute or so. Every blip in her earpiece was a signal, every squeak of someone's boot, their return. She had no right to be so anxious. They had been through worse.

But she _was_ anxious, and no amount of internal reasoning could make it right.

In situations like these, the best course of action was to accept her anxiousness. Fighting it obviously wasn't doing her any good. So she let her hands tug through her ponytail, and she let her legs shake under the console, and she didn't worry what anyone else thought of it. If she looked like the overly-concerned girlfriend, then that's what she looked like. And if someone wanted to say something about it, then she'd jump at the chance to take her frustration out on them.

McCoy wandered onto the Bridge after a time. He lingered around the captain's chair, making quips to Sulu about how he fit it better than Kirk and about how he deserved a more permanent promotion for dealing with the idiocy of their captain and first officer.

But when she looked to where McCoy's hand fused with the seam of his shirt, Nyota more easily detected the underlying worry in each of his jokes. So she spoke up, casually implying she'd relay every word of theirs to said idiot captain and first officer. The ensuing back and forth between McCoy, herself, Sulu, and the occasional input from Chekov worked to distract them all.

As Sulu made a face at her for claiming that Kirk wore yellow better, a message from the transporter room sprang into her ear. "Don't tell me you wouldn't -" Sulu started, but stopped when she stood.

"They're on board," she announced. There was a visible shift in everyone's demeanors, including her own. A relieved buzz filled the air, far more effective at cutting the tension than anything else. A sliver of worry wormed its way through, though. She hadn't thought she would ever wonder if perhaps they had returned too soon. Only two minutes later, Kirk and Spock arrived on the Bridge, and Kirk relieved Sulu, while Spock settled on the opposite side as McCoy.

Kirk nodded back at her. "Open a channel." This time, the Romulans responded immediately. A different person, this one with a well-lined face and stiff uniform, appeared on the screen. "We have a team of engineers standing by to help with repairs, Commander Volan."

"While we appreciate the offer, we can manage alone. You caused little disruption." The Romulan frowned, eyes narrowed in a look not quite blank enough to hide a hint of annoyance.

"Alright. Then we'll wait for your signal. Kirk out."

After the channel closed, Spock wandered from Kirk's side to hers. She spoke without looking up from her console. "How'd it go?"

"Well. An agreement was reached." He was pleased, speaking in an unusually relaxed tone. "There will be a senior staff meeting in the Ready Room in ten minutes. Please alert the appropriate staff." His hand brushed her shoulder as he walked away.

Timed perfectly with the next shift rotation, the meeting in the Ready Room still couldn't happen quickly enough. Her curiosity kept growing. After all, what could Kirk and Spock have done that solved such a serious situation in less than a day.

Scotty was the last to arrive, face still buried in a padd even as he shouted out his arrival. All crowded together in the Ready Room, the senior staff fit together with familiarity. Spock hovered behind Kirk's shoulder, Chekov hardly left Sulu's side, Chief Floyd, Giotto's replacement, lingered closest to the door, and Scotty leaned on the wall beside her. The last of her worry drifted away seeing everyone in the same room.

Kirk cleared his throat and greeted them all. "Good to see you all here. It's been a day."

"Here's to that," Scotty agreed, looking up from his padd. Everyone broke into a relieved smile. She even caught a hint of one on Spock.

"So, the Romulans. They shouldn't be crossing the Neutral Zone again, at least for the foreseeable future." Kirk looked to Spock, who immediately broke into a report.

"Although displeased by the state of their engines, Commander Volan was willing and showed proof of authority to represent the Romulan Empire in our discussion. For context on the issue at hand, a military coup occurred last year on Romulus, at which time military leaders assumed control of the Romulan Senate. There had been a brief period of relative independence for the governing body; however, today most Romulan politicians associated with the split from the military have found themselves assassinated or exiled. Commander Volan claims the coup had widespread support among the people. According to him, many Romulans felt growing resentment toward the Senate's willingness to make concessions to the Federation following the destruction of Vulcan in 2258. He claims many Romulans are disenchanted with the Federation's radical ideology, in his words, and wish to distance themselves, which the current Praetor promises to provide."

Sulu interjected. "But why violate the treaty? Maybe they don't like us, but they can't actively want to start a war."

"The commander implied the Federation would not go to war over border violations," Spock said. "The Federation, apparently, agrees."

"We nearly started a war with the Klingons a few years ago. Surely the Romulans took note of that," Sulu argued.

Spock's hands went behind his back. "Actions Starfleet has pined solely on Admiral Marcus, an explanation which satisfies both the Klingon and Romulan characterizations of Federation species as generally peaceful with extraordinary exceptions." She couldn't help but watch Kirk's eyes narrow with displeasure at Spock's statement, but no one said anything more. He continued. "Regardless of their accuracy, stereotypes about the Federation can help us find diplomatic solutions otherwise impossible."

"You make it sound like we tricked them, Commander," Kirk said, his voice soft.

"We did not." Spock stiffened. "We informed them, on multiple points in our discussion, Altamid was not meant to be a site for armada expansion or colonization. The fault lies with their overwhelming paranoia, an unfortunate trait in an otherwise intelligent and innovative species."

"Altamid?" Nyota asked. What did Altamid have to do with the border violations?

Spock met her eyes. "Yorktown has already disassembled and evacuated Federation presence within the nebula as a show of good faith. Despite this, the Romulan Senate seeks that star system for themselves."

"I don't understand," Nyota shook her head. "The nebula is on our side of the border by at least a light year. And regardless, it shouldn't be up for negotiation. Altamid is already occupied by a sentient and, likely, native species. It's neighbor planet, Gorad, has an advanced civilization with warp capabilities spanning back at least a few centuries."

Kirk frowned. "It's the weapon. They think we're making a weapon with the help of the Maverians, and they've convinced the Ghozgada of that, too."

Ensign Syl's face lit up in her memory like a wildfire, Krall's scream of rage echoing in its wake. She fought to ignore the shiver of fear that rushed down her back. "No one," Nyota said, "is attempting to use the abronath. The main mission on Altamid was academic, exploratory -"

"Be that as it may," Kirk interrupted, "the Romulans aren't the only ones uncomfortable with our presence there. Stories about what the abronath can do have spread, and it's no secret the Federation has been studying it."

"But not for use. We're at peace." This could not be happening. Romulans practiced slavery and valued conquest over coexistence, and the Federation was choosing to leave the Ghozgada and the Maverians to the whims of their empire.

"For the Romulans, peace today is no guarantee of the same tomorrow. And Starfleet Command expected this months ago. Gorad has retracted their application to join the Federation and has opened diplomatic ties with the Romulans. The only ally we might have are the Maverians, but application of the Prime Directive is murky in their case, and even if it wasn't, they've been openly hostile towards us. Killed people. We're no longer welcome in that nebula. The right choice is simple: we've started negotiations to redraw the border in that area."

"They violate our treaty, and are then rewarded for it?" Chekov spoke up. All eyes turned to him, and he shifted in his chair. "Excuse me for interrupting, but doesn't this set a dangerous precedent? And what about Yorktown, so close to the Neutral Zone now?"

"It's not a reward so much as an acknowledgment of shifting attitudes in our neighbors. And in some ways, Yorktown being so close to the nebula provides a good window for mutual surveillance. Maybe even an opportunity for a better understanding of one another," Kirk argued good-naturedly.

"As long as everyone stays on their side," Sulu said. "They've shown they can't even do that. Yorktown isn't just a military station. Its civilian population far outnumbers Starfleet personnel." Ben and Demora were among them.

Kirk sighed. "I understand your concern, but our part in these negotiations is closed. Starfleet is under strict orders from the Executive Council to lower activity in this region of space. We'll escort any remaining Romulan ships in the area back to their side of the border, the other Starfleet ships will leave immediately after. The _Enterprise_ is ordered to stay at the research outpost for the next few days, after which we'll transport a number of their samples to Rigel II. For now, the matter is closed." Kirk nodded when no one had anything left to say. "Dismissed."

As everyone filed out, Nyota stared at her boots. She had hoped one day to go back to Altamid, and she hadn't realized that until she knew she couldn't. Border changes like this one were rare. Likely, she would never get to return.

"Uhura?" Kirk rested his weight on the edge of his desk, arms crossed. She glanced up and saw that everyone had already left.

She took a breath and examined her feelings, only to find an intense force of anger lurking beneath the calm. "There's so much left to learn. We're wasting this chance."

"I know."

His curt answer only fueled the whirlwind of accusations she began to build in her head. "You know I respect you as Captain, but …" If it were anyone else, she'd have already spoken exactly what was on her mind.

"Say what you need to say," he nodded. "I'd rather we confront this sooner rather than later."

She crossed her arms. It was a testament to how different she viewed him now as opposed to in the Academy, that she was unsurprised in his request for an honest discussion. "You are making a mistake. This does a disservice to all our people who lost their lives on Altamid." There were Human bones on that planet, members of the crew, never laid to rest. Surely that meant something. It could've been her. It could've been any of them. "That nebula was not yours to give away."

Kirk didn't back down. "The safety of the Federation is also not mine to give away." She wasn't expecting such a fierce rebuttal. The tension in his arms tightened. "Any progress towards reconciliation with the Federation the Romulans have made is backsliding. They haven't been our enemies in decades. I won't be the captain who makes them our enemies again. Too many people have died already. You say giving up any claim to the nebula is what wastes their sacrifice. I'm telling you that not giving it up would be the real shame."

She mulled over his point, and in all fairness, she understood where he was coming from. But Romulans and Federation species weren't the only actors involved. "You know they don't have good intentions there."

"Romulan policy is not our responsibility," Kirk said.

"Maybe it should be."

"That has some dangerous implications, and I don't think you mean it."

Damn the implications and the moral grey area and the whole situation. "What's dangerous is a policy of appeasement."

Kirk nodded, though his expression hardened into stone. "If you think I haven't considered that, then you don't know me as well as I thought you did. Altamid is not the hill I want to die on, but that doesn't mean I won't take action if and when it's necessary to protect our values."

She believed him, she did, but it wasn't enough. "So where do you draw the line, exactly? Is it Yorktown? Or will you that become forfeit, too, in the name of peace?"

The room became quiet as she waited for him to shoot something back at her, like her clear bias in the situation or her stepping out of line, but instead Kirk grew solemn. His shoulders drew in. "I don't know. I have my own reservations about what I was asked to do today, but I'd like to think that I'll know when it's right to draw that line. Today wasn't that day."

"Then why..." she started automatically before catching herself. The anger, she knew, was misplaced. Kirk wasn't to blame for the situation. Sometimes it was easy to slip into the narrative people created for him. Captain Kirk could disregard any order, break any rule, and come out unscathed. But then she remembered to really look at him, and what she saw was her friend, who couldn't always ignore the consequences, even when he wanted to.

But if he couldn't, then neither could she, and that was hardly a comfort. "Of course you had reservations," she finally said. "You're doing what you need to do."

"I have to believe this is for the best, Uhura. But I'd be lying if I said it was ideal." He shook his head, eyes unfocused, almost haunted. "All I know is that I don't want to go to war. Not with the Romulans or the Klingons or anyone else that comes out of the shadows. I want us all to get to go home in a year."

"So do I."

Kirk stared at her a moment too long, like he wanted to speak further, but stopped at the last moment. The weight on his shoulders disappeared in an instant. "And we will," he grinned, pushing off the desk and straightening up. "All in one piece."

"If I were superstitious," she said with a wary smile, "I'd say you might be jinxing us."

"I'm a beacon of good luck," Kirk answered in defense as they both approached the door.

She snorted. "Since when?"

* * *

He interrupted for the sixth time. They weren't even twenty minutes into the film.

The temperature hovered at a comfortable medium between them, and they sat up against the headboard, pressed together at the side with one of her legs draped over his. This was the most relaxed either of them had been in a week, and she was so glad to be with him without the distraction of impending interplanetary conflict. Maybe she didn't want it any other way, and maybe that was okay.

"Did you hear my question?" he said, the crease between his eyebrows revealing his irritation.

"Hmm?" she hummed, distracted. She kept running over the lines of her conversation with Kirk. Was he right? Was she? Did it matter?

Spock employed the Vulcan version of a huff, a gesture consisting of a slightly too long exhale and pause, to grab her attention. "I do not understand the motivation behind including this particular graphic." He pointed to the screen. "It serves little purpose."

"Maybe not for someone with a specialization in interspecies ethics," she said absently. She had been the one to pick out the documentary, but with all that had happened, her attention couldn't stay on the screen. Pausing on the offending display, Spock stared at her. She stared back. Then she broke. "If we can't gain anything from the nebula, then what did anyone die there for?"

He took it in stride. It was a bit irritating that he always had a response at the ready. "We have gained considerable knowledge, even from the short time we were permitted in that space. I find it strange you do not acknowledge that, considering your own role in the process." He paused, appraising her. "Perhaps you have concluded no amount of data collected will equal the sacrifice sustained in its acquisition."

"That's remarkably non-utilitarian of you," she said.

He laced his hands together in his lap, and it was only then that she realized he had been holding hers moments before. Who ever said he didn't play dirty? "I am speaking in terms of my knowledge of your own views."

"Then what do you think?"

"When our disputes with the Romulans reach their peak," Spock said, "the loss of life sustained has overshadowed any gain either side makes in exchange. To avoid this should be our top priority." Like in the Ready Room earlier, the air became sober. She remembered now why she liked to avoid to much work-talk in their quarters.

"What if it comes to that anyway?" she asked.

"An uncharacteristic concern from someone who has always championed diplomacy and communication. Do you think war with the Romulans is inevitable?"

"No." And she didn't. "I just really wish things could be different."

"As do I. Maybe we will be witness to a change for the better in our lifetimes." They sat on that for a moment, and she reached for his hands, encapsulating them both between hers. She smiled when she felt his affection at the thought of their future. He spoke again after a while, drawing her attention to his eyes. "I hope," he began carefully, "you will be able to show me the caves of Altamid someday. It is one of the few places we haven't explored together."

And that was when she knew for certain.

She didn't need children. She didn't need "normal". She didn't need the three bedroom house, white picket fence dream. She didn't need simple or contractions or rounded ears. She didn't even need Spock. The past year had shown her that much. But she wanted him. She knew she could only stand beside him for half his life, but she was willing to give him all of hers if he'd just meet her halfway.

She could say all this to him, and she would, but for that moment, she ran to her uniform pants and searched in its pockets. "Nyota?" Spock asked, but she was on a mission, and if she stopped now she might lose her nerve. After she found the ring, she walked back to the bed and stood at the side, her thighs meeting the edge of the mattress. She held out her father's father's wedding band between them. It gleamed in the dim light of his quarters, and Spock's eyes were gleaming, too. She stared into them, analyzed the way his eyelids drooped in confusion and rose with understanding. She took that piece of time, and she committed it to memory. Every expression, every movement, every breath, every silence.

"Spock."

She had never said his name with so much of herself.

"Nyota?"

Hers was an inquiry, a mystery, and it had never sounded so beautiful as when he said it to her then.

And then she asked the question, and she asked in Standard because it belonged to both of them, and that was important. It was important because that would be their most important beginning of all the beginnings before then and after. It was only four words, but they were the hardest and the easiest she'd ever uttered. It was only four words, but there was so much meaning behind them, and she wanted everything to be perfect for him.

She inhaled and smiled softly.

"Will you marry me?"

* * *

A/N: Hello again.

It's done! Thank you to the ends of the Earth to everyone that read, reviewed, followed, etc. It means a lot to me that people still cared to know the end, despite how long it's taken. You guys are all really freaking awesome.

Also, I personally feel like this ending isn't a cliffhanger, but just in case there's ANY ambiguity, **he says yes.**

In other news, there will be a part four (of five!), starring Chekov? And/or Spock? It's a WIP. Gotta figure some stuff out. Regardless of POV, it will be Chekov focused. Just giving you all a heads up. :)

With that in mind, we'll be seeing each other soon enough, so bye for now!


End file.
